


Screwing Up In Reverse

by Golddisaster



Series: Insanity Is Just A State Of Mind [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- MASH, Amnesia, An AU no one asked for, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Everyone is snarky, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, medical drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golddisaster/pseuds/Golddisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 1046 Mobile Army Surgical Hospital sure is an... interesting place to be stationed. In between grueling sessions of surgery, the men and women stationed at the 1046 MASH are always up to something in an attempt to stave off boredom and madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I couldn't get this absolutely ridiculous AU out of my head so I had to write it down. Essentially it's assorted F1 and other race car drivers working in a MASH unit during the Korean War, just like the original show. Hilarity and angst soon follows.

"Fore!" 

Fernando's voice echoed across the valley, bouncing off the distant mountains, as he watched the golfball he'd just punted fly through the air, over the dirt road leading into the camp, past the nurses' showers. Mark let out a low whistle, shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand as he watched the ball. 

"Got some distance on that one, Nando." He commented, squinting as he continued to watch the ball fall, eyes widening as it flew right over the minefield sign. 

"Farther than you!" Fernando grinned, placing the driver across his shoulders and putting his hand on his hip. 

"Ah, I wouldn't be too sure about tha-" They both winced at the sound of one of the landmines going off, a sharp explosion, followed by a column of dust and dirt rising up into the air. They could hear a distant, yet shrill scream of surprise. Fernando's head dropped as Mark made a cartoonish grimace.

"And I'm afraid that's a foul," Mark said, putting his hand on Fernando's shoulder, "sorry mate." Fernando looked up at the minefield, eyes narrowed. 

"Best two out of three?" The Spaniard suggested hopefully.  

"If I win you buy me a drink." Mark said, grabbing another dirt-stained ball from the bucket beside him. Fernando scoffed. 

"We have a still in our tent!" He exclaimed. 

"Then buy me a drink that won't make my liver stage a revolt." Mark countered, swinging his driver back and forth, lining up his shot. Fernando snorted. 

"What liver? You have no liver." 

"Not since I came here at least." Mark grunted, pulling back his arms to swing, when they heard frantic panting and footsteps behind them. Mark turned around, lowering his arms as Fernando looked over his shoulder. They could see someone blonde running up the slope towards them, hand clamped firmly on the cap on his head to keep it from flying off. He ran all the way up to them, coming to a hard stop, bent halfway over, panting heavily. 

"Ch… ch…ch…" The young boy stuttered in between gasps for air. 

"Geez Dany, take a minute, don't have a heart attack on us." Mark said, tossing his driver to the side. 

"We can't afford to break in a new company clerk." Fernando added with a smirk. Dany rolled his eyes in response, but stood up straighter, taking a few deep breaths. He swallowed and took one more breath before speaking. 

"Choppers incoming, sirs. Supposed to be a lot of casualties, they tried to take a hill." Dany explained, looking towards the pass the choppers usually came in through. Not a second later, they could hear a distant, mechanical buzzing, the first of the dark green choppers with their telltale red crosses flying in-between the pass in the mountains, heading straight for them, the upper landing pad.

"I don't know how you do it Dany." Mark said, clapping the clerk on the shoulder as he saw an ambulance tear down the road below them. The kid had a knack for predicting things. 

"Attention all personnel, incoming casualties from the road and the chopper pads, report to triage and operating room on the double! Looks like we're in it for the long haul today!" It was impossible to tell who was on the PA. Max? Carlos? Sergio? 

"Keep up the good work, comrade!" Fernando yelled as he ran down the slope towards where the ambulance was now parked.

"Stop calling me that!" Dany yelled indignantly, huffing as he turned around towards the chopper pads. Mark looked down at the scene in front of the hospital, enlisted men carrying out soldier upon soldier on stretchers, laying them out so that the nurses could do triage. He felt his heart sink as he realized just how many wounded there were. It wasn't the workload, it was the sheer amount of suffering that depressed him. He could hear the moans and screams from all the way up on the upper pad, red on white, green on brown, the usual palette of Korea. 

"Webber!" Someone shouted, breaking him out of his thoughts. Mark blinked, eyes focusing on who was in front of him. Blonde hair, blue eyes, looking extremely irritated, none other than Head Nurse Nico "Hot Lips" Rosberg. "We need you for triage up here!" 

"Right." Mark nodded, jogging after Nico along with a gaggle of enlisted men, the two of them crouching low to the ground as the chopper eased itself onto one of the red landing strips, the wind from the rotating blades making their hair fly is every direction, kicking up dust around them. The chopper landed, finally, and Mark immediately went for one of the two stretchers attached to the side of the chopper, checking on the soldier. 

"He's got a superficial chest wound, he can wait a bit." Mark yelled over the slowing chopper rotors, hurrying over to the other stretcher. "Severed artery in the leg, get him in now, I'll take him first after I sterilize, I may be able to save the leg." Mark called to Nico, who nodded in response. 

"Got it, doctor." Nico grunted, picking up the stretcher of Mark's patient as Mark raced down the hill, past another group of nurses running up to the pad, narrowly avoiding another incoming ambulance, making a beeline for the hospital. Mark rushed into the sterilization room, slamming the doors open and nearly running into someone. 

"Look out Mark, we can't afford to be down a doctor!" Michael chided him, dodging around him easily and grabbing his white scrubs from the hook behind him. Schumacher was the senior of the doctors, who'd been with the 1046 since the day it was established. He'd been in the outfit longer than Lieutenant Colonel Arrivabene. 

"I know, I know." Mark sighed, turning on one of the sinks and grabbing a bar of soap, scrubbing his hands and arms quickly under the scalding water. He could barely feel the heat of the water now, he was too used to it, his hands were too calloused. Michael looked out of the small glass window in the door leading into pre-op, looking into the compound, surveying the wounded. 

"Another day, huh?" Michael asked. He couldn't hide the weariness in his voice, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever as he turned to look at Mark. 

"Yeah." Mark sighed, watching the red dirt wash off his hands and swirl towards the drain. There was a copper colored ring around the dingy metal drain, and Mark couldn't tell if it was buildup of dirt, or blood. 

"Just another day." 

 


	2. Chatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The OR isn't quite as quiet as many would expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a gory chapter, if you're very squeamish, you may want to skip this one. Also, I swear there will eventually be a light and happy chapter. Like, next chapter, I promise!

"Retraction, nurse."

"Yes doctor." 

Mark dug deeper into the lower intestine, searching desperately for another grenade fragment. He knew he'd counted twenty-three, all he had in the pan beside him was 22, he couldn't afford to leave in one piece and have it tear up the kid's insides again later. 

"Adjust the light, bring it down lower." Mark said, practically hunched over the patient. Nico nodded and moved the huge metal lamp down a few inches, adjusting the angle so that Mark would have better lighting of the lower sections. 

"Aha!" Mark muttered as he raised one of the coils slightly, spotting the rogue fragment embedded in the underside of the intestine. 

"Forceps." Mark said curtly, holding out his hand. 

"Forceps." Nico replied, handing Mark the tool almost before the words were even out of Mark's mouth. 

"Ah, hot lips and healing hands." Mark said, his grin hidden behind his face mask as he grasped the end of the shrapnel, easing it gently out of the organ. 

"Doctor, I'd like to remind you that I'm within easy reach of a scalpel." Nico remarked, his accent clipped. 

"Quit bothering the nurses and do your job Webber." Maurizio growled from the other side of the room, looking up from the bowl resection he was doing. 

"But it's my job to bother the nurses!" Mark cried in a mock-whine, dropping the fragment into the metal pan, clinking against all the other fragments. 

"Then you're terrible at your job." Fernando snickered. Mark huffed in response but returned to his patient 

"Alright, let's stitch him up." Mark murmured. "I need three-oh silk and some suction in this area." Mark said to Nico, pointing to where he would start stitching. 

"Yes, doctor." Nico replied, handing him the needle and thread. It was quiet for a few more minutes, until one of the nurses let out a shriek. Mark's head jerked over his shoulder, spotting Fernando and his patient. Something must have gone wrong, since one of the arteries was pumping blood like a hose, splashing right across Fernando's white scrubs and onto his face, as well as onto the nurse. Mark could see the nurse's wide green eyes from here, horrified. She must have been new, all the other nurses simply stared at the spectacle dully. They'd seen worse. 

" _Infierno puto_!" Fernando snarled, placing his hand on the ruptured artery, stopping the flow.

"Fernando, are you alright?" Michael asked, stretching to see Fernando. 

"No, _esta en el ojo_." Fernando replied, shaking his head, hand still on the artery. 

"It's in his… eye?" Mark translated, somewhat unsure. Nando had been teaching him some Spanish since he came here, but Mark was somewhat hopeless with it. Fernando looked up at him, nodding. Mark could see his right eye was squeezed shut, covered in the patient's blood, the right side of his face and clothes turned scarlet. Fernando couldn't wipe it off himself, he wouldn't be sterile anymore, and the kid couldn't afford to wait for Fernando to get sterilized again. 

"Let me get that." Someone said gently, moving Fernando's stricken nurse out of the way, a purple sash hanging about his shoulders. The man produced a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the blood out of Fernando's eye. As he leaned forward, a silver cross glinted from the necklace that hung around his neck. Fernando blinked, looking up at the man. 

" _Gracias_ , Padre Button." Fernando said gratefully as Jenson moved out of the nurse's way, as Fernando started on patching up the artery. 

"Not a problem Fernando," Jenson replied, eyes crinkling with the smile hidden behind his mask. "I hope that's the only duty I have to perform today." The Father added somewhat gravely, looking at all the other patients on the tables.

"We're certainly trying to keep it that way." Maurizio grunted. Again, a kind of peace settled over the OR, permeated by stress and the sound of metal clinking on metal, the occasional sound of scissors snipping through something wet. Michael cracked his neck, groaning slightly. 

"You alright there, old man?" Mark asked, tugging the needle through the patient's flesh in his zig-zag pattern. They all had different stitch styles, you could tell which soldier had which doctor based on the patient's sutures alone. 

"Yeah, crick in my neck." Michael replied, trying to ignore the itch developing on the back of his neck that was crawling down the rest of his back.

"How's everyone holding up?" Maurizio asked, looking up from his patient to look at the entire OR. He was met with a chorus of tired groans and sighs, but he could see them all, up to their elbows in gore, eyes dark with the circles under their eyes, yet alert and focused on their work. Maurizio sighed. He couldn't have asked for a better team of surgeons and nurses.

"Alright, we're almost done, we have five patients left." The sense of relief that swept through the OR was palpable. "I'll take two, Schumacher, you're done after this one." Maurizio said, putting down his scalpel.

"But Colonel-!" Michael started to protest, when Maurizio cut him off,

"You pulled nineteen hours in here yesterday, plus fifteen today. I'm not going to let you run yourself into the ground again." Maurizio said firmly, staring at Michael. 

"Yes, Colonel." Michael sighed _._

“Michael, could you be a little more selfish sometimes? You’re making the rest of us look bad.” Mark commented, finishing his sutures. “Alright, he’s good, take him to post-op.” Mark said. Nico nodded and motioned for two nurses, who came over and took the stretcher, carrying the soldier into the post-operation bay. Before the doors to post-op even swung closed, another soldier lay on the table in front of Mark. 

“Am I gonna be ok, doc?” He asked weakly. Mark looked over him quickly. He barely looked 18, he’d guess 19 at the oldest, bright blue eyes wet with tears, but Mark’s eyes gravitated towards the gaping wound in his belly. Mark looked down at him. 

“Yeah, kid,” He reassured him, trying to smile behind his mask, “you’re gonna be ok. Just… lay back and relax, alright? We’ll have you patched up in no time.” Mark said as one of the nurses secured the oxygen mask to the kid’s pale face. 

One more. There would always be one more kid waiting for him outside. 

It would never end.


	3. Seeing is Believing, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an accident with the OR's temperamental stove heater, Fernando is temporarily blinded. Mark takes it upon himself to look out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeeaaaah, this isn't quite the happy chapter I promised, but it is the set-up for one!

Mark barely even realized his teeth were chattering together until he became aware of the sound of it rattling around in his skull. And then he could feel just how numb his fingers were, he couldn’t distinguish where his fingers began and where his scalpel ended. 

“Did the heater go out again?” He yelled, looking up from his patient. He could hear scuttling on the other side of the room as one of the nurses dashed to the stove heater on the other side of the OR.   
“Yes, doctor.” She called, walking briskly back over to him. 

“D-damn it. These boys c-could risk getting h-hypothermia.” Michael stuttered, trying not to shiver too badly. Nico went over to the heater, kneeling down beside it to inspect it as he grabbed the box of matches off the top of it. Mark tried to keep working, ears straining to listen to Nico work on the heater. 

“C’mon Hot Lips, put that German efficiency to good use!” Mark yelled. Nico yelled something back in unintelligible German. Things were quiet as Nico tried to get the heater to reignite, with no luck. 

“ _Schiesse,_ this isn’t working.” Nico sighed, matchbox resting on his knee. 

“Fernando!” Nico exclaimed, looking up at the doctor. 

“ _S-s-si_?” Fernando asked, glancing over his shoulder at Nico.

“You’ve repaired this heater before, right?” Nico asked, resisting the urge to rub his hands up and down his arms. Fernando hesitated. 

“Er… yes?” He replied, unsure. He had some mechanical know-how, but it hadn’t been put to use for a while. 

“Can you help me with this?” Nico asked, motioning to to heater. 

“Please!” Half the OR cried in unison. Fernando looked around, eyes wide, and then he looked at his nurse apologetically. 

“Can close?” He asked her almost sheepishly. 

“Of course, doctor.” She replied, sliding into Fernando’s place to finish his sutures as Fernando joined Nico by the heater. Fernando fiddled with the heater for a few minutes,as everyone felt the cold creep into their bones. 

“Match?” Fernando asked Nico. Nico handed him the matchbook, rocking back on his heels as he watched Fernando. Fernando struck the match, and tossed it gently into the open mouth of the gas heater. 

Next thing Mark knew, there was an explosion, and screaming.

“What’s going on!?” Mark yelled, turning away from his patient entirely. 

“Move, out of the way!” He heard Maurizio yell, as nurses parted like the Red Sea to get out of the CO’s way. Mark felt his heart stop as he saw Fernando, hands clutched over his eyes, howling in pain, Maurizio leading him by the elbow into post-op. 

“Dany!” Maurizio yelled over everyone, the young Russian appearing by his side almost instantly, wide-eyed. 

“Call the 1041st evac and tell them to send their ophthalmologist, we’ve got a doctor with possible flash burns!” Maurizio yelled over his shoulder as he pushed the door to post-op open, leading the blinded Fernando through the swinging doors. 

“Yes sir!” Dany called after him, running out of the OR. Mark watched the doors to post-op swing back and forth, heart beating quickly. 

“Doctor?” His nurse said, looking at him worriedly. “Do you want me to close?” She asked him, glancing at his shaking hands, her own hands poised just above his, ready to take his scalpel. 

“Uh… yeah, if you would, please.” Mark mumbled, moving out of the way of the nurse, pulling off his face mask and opening the doors to post-op. Fernando lay on the bed closest to the doors, Maurizio standing over him, with all the patients in the room staring at them with wide eyes. Mark pulled his gloves and cap off, going over to Fernando’s bedside. 

“Hey, Nando, you alright?” Mark asked him quietly. 

“No.” Fernando said through gritted teeth. “Hurts.” 

“Mark.” Maurizio said, making the Australian look up. Maurizio went over to Mark’s side of the bed, leaning towards him, “Stay with him, the ophthalmologist will get here eventually, try to keep him calm.” Maurizio said in a low voice. Mark nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Right, I will.” Mark said, sitting down beside Fernando’s bed. Maurizio went back to the OR quickly, Mark could hear him yelling “Calm down!” over everyone, until finally it was quiet again, save for Fernando’s heavy and erratic breathing. Mark looked down at his friend, chewing on his lip. 

“Nando, is there anything you want?” Mark asked, scooting closer to Fernando’s bed. “Water, gin, anything?” 

Fernando shook his head, hands still over his eyes. 

“No.” Fernando managed to say. “Just stay, please.” Mark couldn’t help but smile, putting a hand on Fernando’s shoulder. 

“‘Course I will, mate. I’m not going anywhere.” Mark said reassuringly. 

“Am scared.” Mark strained to hear Fernando whisper. “What if I can never…?” Fernando trailed off with a whimper. 

“Nando, it’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re going to see again, and you’ll be able to see all sorts of wonderful things. Like my face.” Mark joked, trying to get the Spaniard to laugh. He did manage to get a smile out of Fernando, and even though he couldn’t see them behind his hands, Mark could easily imagine the corners of Fernando’s eyes crinkling with the grin on his face. 

“You give yourself too much credit.” Fernando laughed. 

* * *

 

“How does that feel, Fernando?” Major Ickx asked, backing up from Fernando. His eyes were covered by a thick cotton wrapping that went all the way around his head multiple times. Fernando moved his head around, looking this way and that, before looking in front of him again. 

“Dark. Blind.” Fernando said with a helpless shrug. Major Ickx sighed and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Well, I’ll be back to see you in a week Fernando. Until then, take it easy.” Major Ickx replied, standing up, as Fernando suddenly grabbed his arm. 

“Doctor, will I be able to see?” He asked nervously, almost not wanting to hear the answer. The major grimaced for a moment.

“I don’t know yet, but I feel like you’ll make a full recovery, Captain.” Ickx reassured him. Fernando’s hand fell from the major’s arm and into his lap. 

“Thank you, Major Ickx, for coming on such short notice.” Maurizio said, motioning to the door out of post-op.

“Not a problem, but I was wondering, what happened to Brigadier General Rosberg? I could have sworn he was yelling at my clerk. Keke nearly reduced the kid to tears.” Ickx replied, opening the door out of post-op. Dany covered his mouth to suppress a laugh, as Nico tried to keep his mouth from twitching up into a smile. 

“Ah, about that…” Maurizio said, walking after Ickx, the door swinging shut behind them. The smile Nico had been trying to suppress a moment ago was gone from his face as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Fernando, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” Nico said quietly as he sat in front of Fernando.

“Is fine, Nico.” Fernando reassured him. “Am glad you’re okay.” 

Nico shook his head, looking at Fernando with a pained smile. 

“You’re too nice, Fernando.” Nico said, standing up again. “I hope you feel better soon.” 

“Me too!” Fernando exclaimed, head tilting towards where he heard Nico’s voice. 

“Well, it’s been a long day.” Mark said, going over to stand by Fernando, “I think we all deserve a good night’s sleep.” 

“Agreed.” Nico said. 

“ _Si.”_ Fernando replied, standing up shakily. Fernando tried walking forward, but stopped after a few unsure steps with a frustrated sigh. Mark leaned down, taking Fernando’s hand in his. Fernando felt his heart stop for a moment, breath catching in his throat. 

“C’mon mate, let’s get you back home.” Mark said, tugging Fernando along gently. Fernando smiled, following after Mark. 

“Right. Home.” Fernando murmured, his broad smile not leaving his face. 


	4. Seeing is Believing, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an accident with the OR's temperamental stove heater, Fernando is temporarily blinded. Mark takes it upon himself to look out for him.

“Again.”

Mark groaned at Fernando, rocking back in his chair. An empty oil drum sat between them, acting as a makeshift table, a well-worn deck of cards sitting atop it. 

“Nando, we’ve done this a dozen times already, you’re just going to get frustrated.” Mark sighed, rocking forward again. 

“No, am sure I have it this time!” Fernando exclaimed, pushing the deck towards Mark for him to cut. Mark shook his head and took the deck. _Thirtieth time’s the charm._ Mark thought, glancing at Michael, who was reading a book. 

“Are you going to give me a second opinion, or are you going to leave me out here to dry?” Mark asked him, cutting a third of the deck. He glanced at the card on top of the pile: ten of spades. Michael looked up as Mark pushed the deck towards him. 

“Why? It’s good for him to keep his mind off of things.” Michael said, putting the book on his knee and picking up the deck, cutting a half and glancing at his card, putting the rest back on the drum. 

“Am not deaf.” Fernando deadpanned, turning his head towards Michael. 

“Right, sorry Fernando.” Michael said apologetically, grimacing at his earlier comment. 

“Is fine, just remember. Do you know your cards?” Fernando asked them. 

“Yep.” 

“ _Ja_.” 

“Good.” Fernando said, shuffling the three cut decks back into one another. He then spread them out over the barrel, in a practiced motion barely hindered by his lack of sight. 

“Hmmmm…” Fernando said, picking out the two jesters from the pile. How he did it, Mark didn’t know.

“Are the jesters going to get the numbers right this time?” Mark asked, crossing his arms. Somehow Fernando figured he could pull up their cards based on the jesters’ positions alone. 

“Yes!” Fernando chirped, shuffling the cards back into the pile. 

“Your card,” Fernando said, looking at Mark. “Is number twenty. And yours,” Fernando continued, looking at Michael, “is number forty-eight.” He said, starting to count the cards, flipping over the twentieth card and putting it on top of one of the jokers. Mark’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw the ten of spades. 

“Is this your card?” Fernando asked, a grin on his face. 

“Surprisingly, yes.” Mark said, picking up the card and twirling it between his fingers, watching as Fernando flipped through the cards quickly, flipping number forty-eight over and placing it on top of the other fool. 

“Is this your card?” Fernando asked again, sounding somewhat smug. Michael grimaced. 

“Ah… no. Mine was the five of hearts. That’s an ace.” Michael said in an apologetic tone as he watched Fernando’s head drop. 

“Hey, one out of two, that’s better than yesterday!” Mark exclaimed, trying to cheer Fernando up. 

“Right.” Fernando mumbled, shuffling the deck in his hands absent-mindedly. Mark sighed, sitting back in his chair. Fernando had been despondent for the past few days at best, and he was more restless than ever. Mark was starting to think Fernando actually missed working in the OR for hours on end. 

“Mail call!” 

Mark jumped at the voice, as they all turned their heads to look at the door. A tall, curly-haired enlisted man stood outside, an army green, combination locked mailbag draped over his arm. 

“Door’s unlocked, Dan!” Mark called. 

“Mostly since our lock was stolen.” Michael replied, dog-earing his page. 

“Who would steal a lock?” Daniel asked, opening the door to the tent. 

“I don’t know, my bet is on the rats. They go for anything shiny.” Mark replied as Daniel spun the lock on the bag until he had it open. 

“One letter for M. Schumacher,” Daniel said, digging through the bag until he found a pale yellow envelope, handing it to Michael with a grin. Michael took the letter eagerly. 

“ _Danke_!” Michael exclaimed. 

“Gesundheit.” Daniel replied, rooting through the bag once more. 

“And for Mark, one issue of _Volleyball Monthly_ , and… _Popular Mechanics Magazine_?” Dan said, raising an eyebrow at Mark. 

“I only read it for the articles.” Mark said with a grin as he took the magazines. Fernando rolled his eyes behind his bandages. Daniel shrugged and returned back to the bag. 

“Anything in Braille?” Fernando joked. 

“Aw, I’m sorry mate, I don’t.” Daniel replied, shaking his head sadly. “How’ve you been lately?” 

“Blind, mostly. And bored.” Fernando said with a shrug. 

“He’s been so bored he actually cleaned the place.” Michael added, focusing intently on his letter. 

“Oh, so this is what this place looks like without an inch of dirt on everything!” Daniel exclaimed, looking around the tent. He didn’t even see any loose articles of clothing laying around, the beds even had neatly tucked hospital corners. 

“It’s terrible. I can’t find anything.” Mark whined, earning a joking punch on the shoulder from Fernando. 

“I bet you’ll manage. Well, back to the grind, Maurizio threatened to promote me if I was late with his mail again.” Dan explained, locking up the bag again, leaving the tent with a wave of his hand, the door banging against the rickety frame. Mark flipped through the magazines, skimming the pages. 

“Is from your wife?” Fernando said suddenly, head turning towards Michael. Michael looked up at him. 

“The letter?” Fernando nodded. Michael’s brow furrowed. 

“It is, how did you know?” He asked, folding the letter in half. 

“The perfume.” Fernando answered simply, as if it were obvious. 

“I don’t smell any…” Michael held the paper up under his nose, blinking in surprise.

“I’ll be darned, her perfume is on this.” Micael said, staring at Fernando. 

“Is obvious, no?” Fernando asked. 

“Not for those of us with a set of working eyes, it isn’t!” Mark exclaimed. He was sitting closer to Michael than Fernando was, and he couldn’t smell anything. 

“Speaking of which, we need to change your dressings.” Mark said, standing up and going over to Fernando. Fernando put the deck back on the oil drum as he put out his elbow for Mark to take. Mark helped him up, leading Fernando over to the door, linking their arms together. 

“Going to homecoming?” Michael chuckled, looking at the two. All they were missing were corsages.

“Yep, we’ll be sure not to drink and drive, dad.” Mark shot back, closing the door behind them as Michael smiled, almost knowingly. 

“ _Volleyball Monthly_? Really?” Fernando asked Mark a second later, holding back a laugh. “I thought you dropped your subscription.” 

“I really should, it’s not worth the fee. You see one picture of a naked blonde with a volleyball you’ve seen them a-“ Mark was cut off suddenly as Fernando jerked him backwards forcefully, a Jeep narrowly missing hitting Mark by a few inches. 

“Watch it, ya idiot!” The driver yelled back at them, tires kicking up a cloud of dirt. Mark stared after the Jeep, mouth agape. 

“He could’ve killed me!” Mark exclaimed.

“Good thing the blind man was here to save you.” Fernando grinned, walking forward, tugging Mark along. 

“Got that right.” Mark huffed, glaring after the quickly receding Jeep as he and Fernando continued to post-op.

* * *

 

Mark tossed Fernando’s old bandages into the metal wastebasket, the balled-up wad of cloth bouncing off the lip of it before it fell into the basket proper. Mark picked up the  roll of fresh bandages, glancing at Fernando’s face. His eyes seemed fine, save for a few red areas around his eyelids and his slightly singed eyebrows, but they still looked glassy, unfocused. Mark waved his hand in front of Fernando’s face. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t blink.

“Nando, can you see anything?” Mark asked him. Fernando pursed his lips. 

“Sort of? Is very blurry, but I see light and shadows.” Fernando said, frowning. Mark nodded, leaning forward, unwrapping the bandages from the roll.  
“I’m putting them on now.” Mark warned him. 

“Okay.” Fernando said, blinking. Mark started wrapping the bandages around his head, an unfamiliar pang rising in his chest as he covered Fernando’s hazel eyes with the white cloth. He wrapped the dressing around Fernando’s head a few more times, grabbing a piece of white surgical tape he’d ripped off earlier and taping the wrappings in back. Mark paused, pushing a lock of stray hair behind Fernando’s ear, fingers brushing against Fernando’s jaw gently as he pulled his hand back. 

“Mark?” Fernando asked, making him jump slightly. 

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay?” Fernando asked, brow furrowing. 

“Yeah, ‘course! Why do you ask?” Mark said. 

“You’re quiet.” Fernando said. Mark scratched the back of his neck. 

“I suppose I’m just on edge. It’s been too quiet lately, not enough going on.” Mark sighed. Fernando nodded in agreement. He could feel the tension in the camp. Although everyone was grateful for the break thus far, quiet periods meant a push on the front lines, and a push meant even more wounded than usual. Wounded that he wouldn’t be able to operate on. Fernando sighed, eyes narrowing behind the bandage. Mark patted him on the shoulder, helping him stand up. 

“Want to grab a bite to eat?” Mark suggested as they started to walk out of post-op. Fernando shook his head.   
“Am tired, I just want to lie down.” He said, putting a hand out to find the door and push it open. Mark nodded, looking up again. It was dark out now, the lamps casting dim light all over the camp. Mark glanced up and down the roads warily. After earlier he was more cautious than ever. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making Fernando jump, surprising Mark.  
“Whoa, mate, you alright?” Mark asked, brow knitting together as he looked at Fernando. Fernando looked up, hand tightening on Mark’s arm.

“You didn’t hear that?” Fernando asked, looking at Mark. 

“Sure I did, but it was far off.” Mark said, glancing up at the sky. He could see lightning dancing in the sky, over the mountains in the distance. Mark prayed it was heat lightning, it was certainly humid enough for it, but he knew better by the way the bolts lit up the sky. A storm was coming. 

“It sounds so different…” Fernando murmured, listening as there was another distant peal of thunder. Mark felt Fernando stiffen again, but the thunder had faded away. 

“Choppers.” Fernando said shortly. Mark couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

“Nando, since when did you turn into Dan-“ His blood turned cold as that ever-familiar mechanical hum filled the air. They could both hear the thrum of an ambulance engine in the distance. Fernando tugged Mark along suddenly, the two of them almost running towards the tent. Mark nearly slammed into the frame of the door as they finally stopped outside the tent, the both of them panting as they heard the PA crackle to life: “Wounded in the compound! All staff report to triage!” 

Mark looked worriedly at Fernando. 

“Nando, are you sure-“ 

“Am fine, go to triage! They need you more than I do!” Fernando exclaimed, giving Mark a push towards the hospital. Mark hesitated, but then bolted for the OR after Fernando somehow managed to give him a pointed look from behind his bandages. Fernando sighed and shook his head, opening the door and walking into the tent proper, avoiding the edge of Mark’s cot, since he’d banged his hip on it a few times. Fernando made his way over to his cot, sitting down on the edge of it to take his boots off. He paused as he heard another crack of thunder, much, much louder than the one Mark had said was far off. He pulled off one boot, hearing a soft, almost sighing noise, before a sheet of rain hit the ground. It must have been cold, Fernando heard a collective sharp cry go up from outside the hospital. He felt a pang in his gut. Here he was, perfectly dry, while everyone else had to do triage in the freezing rain, as he sat in his tent, utterly useless. Fernando gritted his teeth, tugging his other boot off, trying to force himself to relax as he laid back in his cot. Fernando listened to the rain fall, the seeming unending sheet actually having progressions, like a symphony. From unrelenting torrent, harsh and percussive, to more gentle sheets, sounding as if the ocean was falling from the sky. Fernando got lost in the storm, starting as he heard the door bang against the frame. 

“Thank God for the 4077.” He heard Michael groan. 

“I don’t envy them right now.” Mark replied in a hoarse voice, as if he’d been shouting. Fernando heard their cots squeak and shriek as they fell into them. Fernando could tell they were asleep within minutes, just by the way they were breathing. He listened to Mark in particular, deep, steady breaths. Fernando could easily imagine Mark's chest rising and falling, his head re- Fernando cut the thought off. It was a ridiculous flight of fancy, the idea of being curled up with Mark, but he could almost feel Mark’s hand brushing against his cheek, like he had earlier. He shook his head and sighed, pulling his blanket up to his shoulders, listening to the rain once more, hoping it’d rock him to sleep.

* * *

 

“Alright Fernando, shade your eyes, and open them slowly.” Major Ickx said, Fernando’s bandages sitting at his side. Fernando obliged, putting a hand over his eyes. He opened them slowly, squinting at the light. He could see Major Ickx, and right behind his shoulder, a very anxious looking Mark, eyes wide, worrying his lip. Fernando hadn’t seen anything so beautiful after a week in darkness. Fernando felt a smile spread across his face as he moved his hand away from his eyes. 

“You were right, am glad to see your face.” Fernando grinned at Mark. Mark’s eyes lit up like a set of fireworks, a huge grin instantly appearing on his face as everyone let out a cheer. He felt people patting him on the back, glancing Nico smiling out of the corner of his eye as Mark made his way over to him. Fernando stood up, only to have Mark throw his arms around his shoulders, Fernando returning the hug happily. Mark held him out at arm’s length, grin still on his face. 

“Good to have you back, mate.” 

Fernando looked down for a moment, feeling heat rise on his cheeks, but he looked back up at Mark with a smile. 

“Am glad to be back.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I finally finished! Well, that's the end of Seeing is Believing! Comments are always appreciated!


	5. Find Me A Find...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark takes it upon himself to play matchmaker for the 1046's shy company clerk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd another two-parter, this time Dan^2 edition! Enjoy the hijinks while they last, the next arc is... less than happy. Also, chapter title from the song "Matchmaker", from the musical "Fiddler On The Roof."

“The following personnel have volunteered for a ten mile hike…” Everyone in the mess tent quieted for a moment as they listened to the PA, eyes glancing upwards. After a few seconds, the PA crackled out again. 

“Does anyone even volunteer for those things?” Nico asked the table as the conversations resumed. 

“I did once, when I was young and naive.” Michael said, shaking his head. “It was horrendous.” 

“Much like this food.” Mark added, staring at the tray in front of him.

“You know, I’m pretty sure these eggs saw the Battle of the Bulge.” Mark said, staring at the pale, sickly, almost green-colored scrambled eggs at the end of his fork. 

“As if.” Nico scoffed, rolling his eyes. “They’ve probably been in storage since Verdun.” He added with a grin. Mark chuckled at that as Fernando and Michael sighed in tandem. 

“Come on, guys. I’m trying to eat.” Michael said in despair, a spoon of watery oatmeal in his hand. 

“Try being the operative word.” Mark replied, letting the eggs drop back into the pile on his tray, picking up a suspiciously stiff piece of bacon, trying to tear off a piece with his teeth. 

“See any better food, captain?” Fernando asked him, raising an eyebrow as he picked up his mug of coffee. 

“No,” Mark said around the bacon, now trying to tear it with his molars, “I’m just wondering how Dany’s acting like he hasn’t eaten in a-“ Mark finally tore the piece of bacon off, “week!” Mark said triumphantly, starting to chew his hard-won prize. The company clerk was indeed packing away food, having already absconded with Mark’s bowl of oatmeal when the captain proclaimed that it’d been the gravy for the meatloaf from last night. Dany looked up at the sound of his name, glancing at Nico’s untouched eggs. 

“Are you going to eat that?” He asked the head nurse, pointing at them. Nico shook his head and pushed the eggs towards Dany, picking up a piece of toast that he’d slathered with butter ten minutes ago. The butter still hadn’t melted, despite it being a good hundred degrees outside. Nico took a bite, grimacing at how loud the crunch was. 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Someone asked from behind them. Mark looked to find Daniel standing there, tray in hand, a big grin on his face, as per usual. Mark couldn’t help but marvel at Dan’s ability to keep a smile on his face, especially in this place. 

“Probably this, later today.” Mark sighed, glancing at his own tray, food mostly untouched. 

“Well, what can you do? It’s the army.” Daniel said with a shrug, “Anyways, got room for one more?” 

“Sure,” Fernando said, putting down his coffee, “I think there is a spot by Dany.” Dany looked up and glanced between Fernando and Daniel, looking like a deer caught in a set of headlights. 

“I…er… I think I hear the colonel calling me!” Dany said hurriedly, grabbing his tray and leaving the mess tent quickly, everyone giving the clerk a confused look. 

“Was it something I said?” Dan asked, brow furrowing, sitting in Dany’s vacated spot. Mark shook his head.

“No, Dan, of course not.” Mark reassured him. “Granted, he probably did hear Maurizio calling him, Maurizio just doesn’t know he needs him yet.” As the words left Mark’s mouth, they could hear Maurizio bellow: “DANIIL!” Mark nodded his head towards the commotion with a smile. 

“See?” Mark said. Michael glanced at the still-swinging doors of the mess tent. 

“He has been acting a little strange though, don’t you think?” Michael asked, wiping his mouth. 

“Who, Dany?” Nico asked, raising an eyebrow. Michael nodded. 

“Now that you mention it, he has been a little jumpy.” Fernando murmured. 

“He nearly had a heart attack when I went into his office the other day, knocked his chair right over.” Michael said, picking up his orange juice and taking a sip, trying to ignore the powered taste that seemed to cling to his tongue. 

“Huh. I wonder what’s up with him then.” Mark said, staring at the bacon in his hand, debating whether or not to finish it. 

“Maybe you should ask him what’s wrong.” Michael suggested. Mark snorted. 

“What am I, the camp psychiatrist? Do I look like Felipe to you?” Mark asked. 

“Oh, come on Mark. He’s just a kid.” Michael said, turning his head to look at Mark, a slight frown on his face. “He should be at home getting in trouble with girls, but he’s been shipped out here with the rest of us. He needs someone to talk to.” Michael said, crossing his arms as he looked at Mark pointedly. Mark sighed, resigned, as he looked at Michael. 

“Alright, I’ll go talk to the kid.” Mark promised, picking up his tray and making his way out of the mess tent. He didn’t have much of an appetite, anyway.

* * *

 

If Dany was trying to hide from everyone, he was doing a fantastic job of it. Mark had searched all over the compound for him, from his office, to the latrine, the motor pool, he wasn’t even behind the nurses’ showers. About the only place Mark hadn’t looked for him was the inside of the camp’s water tower, and he was almost desperate enough to check there too. Mark sighed in frustration, putting his hands on his hips, glancing up and down the dusty crossroads that ran through the 1046. 

“Something the matter, Mark?” Someone asked from behind him. Mark turned, his spirit picking up slightly as he saw Jenson’s friendly face. 

“You could say that Father, you could definitely say that.” Mark said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Anything I can help with?” Jenson asked.

“Possibly, if you can you may be able to classify it as a miracle.” Mark joked with a smile. Jenson chuckled at that. 

“Well, I’ll try my best. What seems to be the problem?” Jenson asked. 

“I’m looking for Dany, and I can’t find him anywhere.” Mark explained, glancing at some passing enlisted men, just in case. 

“Really? I just saw Daniil, he stopped by to deliver the communion wafers I put in a requisition for.” Jenson said, a small grimace crossing his face for a moment. “Or, at least they were supposed to be communion wafers.” Mark raised an eyebrow. 

“What did you get instead?” 

“Ritz Crackers.” Jenson said, managing to smile. “I’m not sure what I expected, this is the army after all. In any case, Daniil said he had to go file the daily report, he should be back in his office.” Mark pressed his lips into a line at Jenson’s answer. 

“First place you checked?” Jenson asked. 

“Yep.” Mark said, looking over Jenson’s shoulder to glare at the adjacent building to the hospital, where Dany and Maurizio’s offices were. Jenson patted him on the shoulder. 

“Good luck.” He said, giving the surgeon a sympathetic smile. 

“I think I’m going to need it Father.” Mark replied, giving Jenson a short smile and a nod before striding towards Dany’s office. He honestly didn’t mean to slam the door, but his irritation at the clerk for making him chase his tail got the better of Mark. Dany visibly jumped at the sound of Mark’s entrance, nearly slamming one of metal filing cabinet's compartments on his hand, almost knocking over a stack of folders he’d placed beside himself. 

“M-mark!” Dany stuttered in surprise from where he was crouched by the cabinet, one of the manilla folders trembling in his hand. “Is there something you need?” Dany asked, trying to compose himself, looking up at Mark with wide eyes. 

“There is something I need, I need to talk to you.” Mark said, walking toward Dany and squatting down in front of him. Dany’s eyes didn’t get any smaller, but Mark was alarmed by what he saw in them: fear. 

“We’ve been worried about you lately,” Mark started to explain, trying to calm Dany down, “you seem jumpy and nervous.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Dany said defensively, turning away from Mark and stuffing the folder into the cabinet and grabbing another. Mark barely noticed that Dany had just stuffed a folder entitled “Receipts” into the “Y” section of the cabinet. 

“I mean like this morning, with Daniel.” Mark said. The mention of Dan made Dany freeze, glancing at Mark out of the corner of his eye. 

“Did something happen between you two? A fight? Do you owe him money?” Mark asked, before seeing tears welling up in Dany’s eyes.

“I don’t want to get a Section Eight!” Dany cried suddenly. Mark stared at him, bewildered and worried. _Section Eight? Where did that come from? Why would Dany be scared of getting a psychological discharge?_ Mark thought as he stared at the clerk. 

“Everyone already wants me gone because I’m Russian! If they knew I liked Dan-“ Dany clamped a hand over his mouth, staring at Mark, horrified. Mark blinked at him, and then laughed. 

“Good Lord, Dany! We were worried that something was actually wrong!” Mark said, mildly relieved. The kid just had a bad case of the butterflies. Dany stared at him, confused. 

“You’re… you’re not going to report me?” He squeaked. Mark scoffed. 

“Of course not Dany, I’d never fink on someone.” Mark said, giving the clerk a reassuring smile. “Especially not for having a little crush.” 

Dany sighed with relief, his entire body relaxing to the point Mark was concerned he was going to turn into a puddle.

“Thanks Mark, I can’t tell you how much better that makes me feel.” Dany said with a weak laugh, before another worried look crossed his face.

“You… you won’t tell anyone else about this, right?” He asked nervously, bending the folder in his hands back and forth. Mark gave him a look of mock offense. 

“I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

* * *

 

“Alright, I figured out what’s been making our clerk so jumpy.” Mark said as he walked into the tent, making Fernando look up from the Medical Examiner’s magazine he was reading.  
“What is it?” Fernando asked, closing the magazine as he saw the broad grin on Mark’s face. 

“Kid’s got a crush on a certain dark-haired enlisted man with a very similar name.” Mark replied, flopping into his cot, putting his hands behind his head. Fernando’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Really?” He asked. The last person he would have figured quiet and shy Dany would like was loud and rambunctious Daniel. 

“Yep.” Mark answered, shortly, still grinning, eyes fixed on the canvas ceiling above him. Fernando knew that look all too well. 

“What are you planning?” Fernando asked, leaning towards Mark. Mark turned his head to look at him.

“A date for our clerk, that’s what.” Mark said, sitting up in his cot again. Fernando chuckled at that. 

“Dany, on a date?” Fernando manage to say through his laughter. Mark nodded and scooted his cot closer to Fernando’s, not noticing how the Spaniard’s breath caught briefly before he breathed out again. 

“I know, I know, but I have an idea.” Mark said excitedly. “But I’m gonna need your help.”Fernando sighed as he looked at Mark’s pleading face. 

“Am listening.” 


	6. ...Catch Me A Catch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark takes it upon himself to play matchmaker for the 1046's shy company clerk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this was a lot harder to finish than I thought it was going to be! In any case, this finishes "Find Me a Find, Catch Me a Catch". The next chapter may be another two-parter, or maybe a standalone chapter or two, depends on what you guys would like to see!

Mark tried not to cough up a lung as he opened the door to the storeroom, a miniature dust devil kicking up from the force of the door opening, dissipating as it hit Mark’s legs, leaving a thin coat of dirt on his dark green pants. 

“I swear, if I ever find out who thought it was a good idea to put this place so close to the road…” Mark grumbled as he swung the door shut. 

He cleared his throat and walked further into the dimly-lit main room, glancing around at the walls. Mark remembered a rash of morphine thefts when he first got to the 1046. The lock on the front door was never broken, so no one could figure out how the thieves got in. Now Mark may have to thank those thieves for the perfect get-away route for his plan, if he could find how they got in. Mark tested the flimsiest-looking walls, seeing if they would move or give. No luck. Mark’s mouth twitched to the side, brow furrowing. _So they didn’t get in through the main room._ Mark thought, scratching his chin. He was surprised Michael hadn’t gotten on him about shaving lately. Then again he seemed to be letting Fernando grow his beard out, maybe the old man was loosening up on regulations. Mark walked into the next room, where the proper medical supplies were kept, where the thefts had happened originally. Mark continued looking at the walls, glancing between the metal shelves, jimmying the handle on the door on the backside of the room, when something caught his eye. There was a line of sunlight on the floor, bright and stark against the dark floorboards. Mark followed the beam upwards, spotting a crack in the tin panels that made up the storeroom’s roof. Mark blinked and grabbed a wooden box that was sitting up against the wall, dragging it under the sunbeam. Mark put a foot on it, pressing down with most of his weight. The box groaned, but the top didn’t give in. Mark hopped onto the top of the crate, reaching up towards the panel. 

“Aha!” He said as he started to push the panel, the stream of light becoming bigger and bigger until he managed to slide the entire panel out of the way, creating a neat square hole, just big enough for someone to shimmy through. Mark grabbed the edges of the hole, dragging himself up with a grunt. He collapsed onto the roof, chest resting on the tin panels, legs dangling into the room below. Mark seal-crawled forward, getting his legs over the edge, until he was on the storeroom’s roof proper, the whole camp laid out in front of him. He crawled carefully towards where the front door was, seeing Fernando leaning against the door, keeping watch. 

“Hey, Nano!” Mark called, laughing as he saw Fernando jump, looking around wildly until he saw Mark on the roof. Fernando turned around, putting a hand over his heart, gasping for air. 

_“Dios mio!_ You scared me!” Fernando called up to him. “How did you…?” Fernando asked, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I figured out how our morphine thieves got in.” Mark grinned. 

“Ah.” Fernando said, blinking up at him, trying to reassure himself that tin was a lot sturdier than he thought it was. 

“Now we’ll have the perfect get-away!” Mark grunted, crawling back towards the hole. Fernando heard a dull thud as he heard Mark drop back into the storeroom, followed by a very muffled “Ow”. Mark opened the door a second later, looking very triumphant, and incredibly dusty. 

“Well, that takes care of our getaway. Now for the set-up.” Mark grinned, starting to stride away from the storeroom, before Fernando caught him by the elbow. 

“After I treat this.” Fernando said, pointing to a long scrape up Mark’s arm. 

“C’mon Nano, it’s just a-“ Mark started to say before he caught the look on Nano’s face. It was a face that was not to be argued with. Mark sighed. 

“Fine.” He relented, and Fernando gave him a smile, and lead him by the elbow, back to their tent.

* * *

 

Nico pressed his shoulder against the door to the laundry room, making it open slightly as he hiked his laundry basket further up his hip, only to feel someone grab the door and open it for him.

“ _Danke sch-“_ Nico paused as he looked up to find Mark and Fernando standing on either side of the door, grinning ear-to-ear. Nico glanced between the two of them. 

“…What are you two up to this time?” Nico asked wearily. Mark looked offended.    
“Why, Hot Lips, when are we ever up to something?” Mark asked, leaning his cheek against his hand, elbow resting on the frame of the door. 

“I think “When aren’t we up to something?” is a better question.” Nico countered. 

“We need your help.” Fernando explained, cutting off Mark before he could make an objection. 

“You have a picnic blanket, _si_?” Fernando asked him. Nico looked at him, confused. 

“I mean, I do, but why do you need it?” Nico asked, utterly baffled. 

“We need it for dinner. Specifically for a date” Mark replied. Nico blinked at him and then looked between him and Fernando. 

“…for who?” Nico asked. Mark leaned down and whispered into his ear, Nico’s eyes widening slightly. 

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Nico said with a slight laugh as Mark stood up again. “Let me go put this up and I’ll get it for you.”

* * *

 

Mark and Fernando walked out of the storeroom, Mark rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get the dust off of them. The sun was setting below the mountains, the sky turning red and violet in the dying light.

“Alright, have we got the plan down?” Mark asked Fernando, closing the door behind him. Fernando nodded. 

“You get Dany, I get Daniel, lead them in, and then lock the door.” Fernando answered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Mark nodded, a similar grin on his face. 

“Good luck.” Mark said, clapping him on the shoulder before starting down the stairs. 

“Same to you.” Fernando called, watching Mark walk lazily towards Dany’s office. Fernando closed the door to the storeroom as he saw the compound’s lights flicker to life. It was do or die now.

* * *

 

"Halt!" Maurizio jumped slightly at the command, turning around wildly, groaning when he saw who it was. 

"Damn it, Ricciardo, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Maurizio groaned, rubbing at his eyes. 

"What's the password?" Daniel demanded, raising an eyebrow, rifle pointed at Maurizio. He didn't even have the hammer pulled back. 

"Stick it where the sun doesn't shine." Maurizio muttered, pushing the nose of the rifle down. 

"That was last week's password." Daniel stated matter-of-factly. 

"Daniel, I've been in surgery for nineteen hours, I want to go back to my tent." Maurizio sighed, shoulders slouching. 

"Fine, but I've got my eye on you." Daniel replied, narrowing his eyes at Maurizio as he continued on with his patrol. Maurizio shook his head and began his trudge back to his tent. The thought of sleeping on that cold, thin, rock-hard mattress was the thing that got him through all those hours of surgery. 

"Not one straight man in this army, I swear." He muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets as the wind picked up. Fernando walked past Maurizio, giving his CO a quick nod as he walked towards Daniel. 

“Daniel!” Fernando called to him, starting to jog towards him, stopping dead in his tracks as Daniel whirled around, rifle pointed at him. Fernando put his hands up, eyes widening. 

“What’s the password?” Daniel asked. 

“…Don’t shoot?” Fernando replied hopefully. Daniel shrugged and put his rifle down. 

“Close enough.” He said, a grin on his face. Fernando breathed out, putting his hands down slowly. 

“What do you need, doctor?” Daniel asked, putting the rifle strap around his shoulder. 

“I need help, am looking for something in the storeroom.” Fernando explained, nodding his head towards the building. 

“Why me? What about Mark?” Daniel asked. Fernando shook his head. 

“Can’t find him.” Fernando replied with a helpless shrug. 

“Alright then.” Daniel said. “Lead the way!” Fernando nodded and started towards the back of the storeroom, towards the back door, with Daniel in tow.

* * *

 

“What are we looking for again?” Dany asked Mark, inventory clipboard in-hand as Mark shut the front door of the storeroom. 

“Ah… arterial clamps. I put a box in here somewhere, and now I can’t find it.” Mark explained, glancing around at the shelves. He hoped Fernando had gotten in here already. 

“I’ll look in the back, you check around here, alright?” Mark said. Dany shrugged in response, turning around. Mark walked backwards slowly, trying to keep the floorboards from creaking, before making a break for the back room. He screeched to a halt as he saw Dan walk by, pausing for a second before Dan disappeared behind the next shelf. Mark made a break for the back room. He could feel a rush of air as Fernando shut the door behind him, turning the lock into place. 

“Ah, good, you made it!” Mark grunted as he pushed the box into place. Fernando scoffed. 

“Of course I did, I thought you were going to be late.” He grinned as Mark got up on the box, pushing the roof panel out of the way. Mark grabbed the edges like he had that morning and pulled himself up onto the roof. Dany paused at the sound of something sliding. 

“Mark?” He called. Mark and Fernando paused at the voice. Fernando rushed onto the box, trying in vain to reach up and grab the edges. 

“Dany? That you?” Dany froze at the voice. It was definitely Australian, but it wasn’t Mark. 

“Daniel?” He called back nervously. The dark-haired man appeared from behind one of the metal shelves, Dany’s grip tightening on his clipboard. 

“Hey there, what are you doing here?” Daniel asked with a grin. 

“Mark needed help looking for something.” Dany explained, the collar of his jacket suddenly feeling very tight. “What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you, Fernando needed help looking for something… too…” They both stared at each other, brows furrowed. 

“Let’s go look for them.” Daniel suggested. 

“Good idea.” Dany said, a kind of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. In the back room, Fernando struggled to reach the edges of the roof, cursing his height in Spanish. Mark leaned down, offering Fernando his hand. Fernando grabbed it, Mark grunting as he pulled Fernando up, letting out a gasp as Fernando managed to grab the edge of the roof, pulling himself up to the roof alongside Mark. 

“Maybe I should start doing calisthenics.” Mark panted. 

“Later, the lock!” Fernando exclaimed, scrambling towards the edge of the roof as Mark slid the panel back in place, faintly hearing Dan yell: 

“Mark? Fernando!” Daniel sighed and scratched the back of his head, running into Dany’s back. 

“Dany, what are you-“ He stopped when he saw what he was looking at. Atop a small table coated in a red-and-white gingham picnic blanket, was a candlelit dinner, complete with two meals covered by dumbwaiters, and a solitary wildflower in a tin cup from the mess tent. Daniel dodged out of the Russian’s way as he ran towards the front of the storeroom, tripping over what seemed to be very strategically placed boxes. 

Fernando paused at the edge of the roof, balking slightly at the drop before he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’ll jump on three, yeah?” Mark said, looking at him.

“Yeah.” Fernando said with a nod. 

“One, two, three!” 

Fernando felt his cheek scrape against the ground, the air leaving his body in a great rush. Mark managed to roll, glancing worriedly at the Spaniard before he waved at him to get the lock. Mark sprang to his feet and didn’t even run up the stairs, jumping onto the platform and locking the storeroom door, right as someone started pounding on it, Mark barely making out indignant protests in Russian. Mark jumped the railing of the stairs, going over to Fernando. 

“Hey, Nano, you alright?” He asked as he helped Fernando sit up. Fernando nodded, taking a few deep breaths, glancing at the door. 

“Is locked?” He managed to ask Mark. Mark shook his head and smiled in disbelief, looking at Fernando. “Yeah, it is.” He said, still smiling, helping Fernando to his feet, putting an arm around his shoulders, the two of them starting to walk back to their tent. 

“We’re locked in.” Dany sighed, forehead banging against the door.

“Well…” Dan said, scratching the back of his head. “Can I treat you to dinner?” He asked Dany hopefully. Dany turned around to see him holding out his hand to him. Dany felt a blush rise up on his cheeks, but he took Dan’s hand happily, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Sure. I’d like that.”

* * *

 

“WEBBER!” Maurizio yelled, shaking Mark by the shoulders, making Michael and Fernando bolt upright in their cots. Mark awoke with a yelp, staring up at a furious Maurizio, his heart pounding in his chest. The sun had risen over the camp, with Fernando and Mark slinking into their beds only a few hours before. 

“It was Coulthard, sir! I swear!” Mark yelled, half in a dream, half in the waking world. Maurizio let him go, Mark’s back thudding against the cot as he scrambled to sit up.

“What did you do with Dany?” Maurizio growled, standing up and crossing his arms. Mark stared up at him, blinking, chest heaving. 

“Dany?” Mark asked innocently. 

“Yes, Dany!” Maurizio snapped. “He’s missing, and anytime something funny happens, you always have something to do with it.” 

“I-!” Mark started to protest, when Fernando interrupted him. 

“Mark.” He said firmly. Mark looked over his shoulder at Fernando, who nodded very subtly in the direction of the storeroom. Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I know where he is.” Mark said, standing up and putting on a pair of slippers, snatching a dark green robe off the small coat stand in the corner of the tent. Mark tied the waistband of the robe as he walked out of the tent, holding the door open for Maurizio. He heard the door slam again a second later as Fernando followed after them. Michael watched them through the screen walls of the tent for a minute, before shaking his head and laying down again, grabbing his pillow and putting it over his head, trying to fall back asleep. Mark walked to the storeroom, Maurizio following behind him, face as dark as a thundercloud. Fernando followed behind Maurizio. It wasn’t all Mark’s fault, Fernando couldn’t throw him to the fire like that. Mark walked up the steps of the storeroom slowly, Maurizio and Fernando stopping at the bottom. 

“What is Dany doing in the storeroom?” Maurizio demanded, putting his hands on his hips. 

“Ah… is a long story.” Fernando said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. Mark took a deep breath and unlocked the storeroom door, opening it slowly. Mark felt his jaw drop when he saw the sight in front of him, laughing softly as his disbelief melted away. 

“What is it?” Maurizio asked, walking up the stairs quickly. 

“See for yourself!” Mark smiled, turning so that they could see into the room. Daniel was leaned against the wall, a surplus pillow stuck haphazardly behind his head, curled up against his chest was Dany, arms wrapped around Daniel’s waist, a green blanket tucked around his shoulders. They were both sound asleep. Mark and Fernando caught each other’s eyes, grinning at each other, as Maurizio sighed and walked into the storeroom, crouching down beside the two.

“Dany, Daniel.” He said sternly, shaking them awake. The two opened their eyes groggily, and then froze when they saw their commanding officer. 

“Sir! We were just-!” Daniel started to say, sitting up straighter. 

“Someone locked us in-!” Dany exclaimed before Maurizio put up a hand, silencing them both. 

“Boys, I don’t care. Just put up the coat hanger on the door next time, that’s what everyone does.” Maurizio sighed, rocking back on his heels. Dany and Daniel let out weak laughter, Dany resting his head against Dan’s chest, and Dan putting a hand on the back of Dany's neck. 

* * *

Mark leaned against the door frame of the tent, Fernando standing next to him with a martini glass in hand. Mark couldn’t help but smile at the scene across the road, Dany and Dan talking animatedly outside Dany’s office, Dan leaning his shoulder against the wall, rifle on his back, listening intently to the clerk. Dany said something, a wide grin on his face as he made a gesture, and Dan doubled over with laughter, audible even to Mark and Fernando. Fernando glanced at Mark, fighting to keep a smile off his face.

“You did good.” Fernando said. Mark looked back at Fernando. 

“Don’t I always?” Mark grinned at him.

“Ah, would not be that generous.” Fernando replied, shaking his head. Mark shrugged, as if to say “fair enough”.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you, Nano.” Mark said, putting a hand on Fernando’s shoulder. Fernando tried his best to not stiffen at the touch. Fernando managed to smile back at him. 

“Am glad to help.” He said quickly, before downing most of the martini he was holding. Mark looked back at Dany and Dan, but felt his stomach drop when he saw the two of them. Dany was looking towards the mountain pass again, Dan looking in the same direction with a concerned look on his face. Mark could barely make out Dany mouth: “Choppers.” Fernando and Mark looked up as they heard the rotors in the distance. 

“Choppers headed for the upper and lower landing pads, additional ambulances thirty minutes out!” Sergio yelled over the PA. “Staff on shift one, report for triage!” 

Mark grabbed Fernando’s shirt collar, dragging them both out of the doorway as Michael slammed the door open, racing towards the lower landing pad. 

“Back to the daily grind, I suppose.” Mark sighed, letting go of Fernando’s collar. 

“Yeah.” Fernando replied tiredly, watching the dark choppers fly towards the landing pads. It had been nice to forget for a moment as to why they were here, to simply play matchmaker for a day. But all good things came to an end. 

 


	7. The Pain Grows Stronger...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tells a soldier about the fate of one of his family members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Ayrton features in this chapter and the next, I may recommend skipping these two if it’s hard to read about him. Chapter title from “Suicide Is Painless”, by Johnny Mandel.

“You know, I’d never thought I’d be able to miss my practice back home, but I do.” Mark said, snapping his gloves on. Nico snorted as he scrubbed his hands under the steaming water. 

“Who wouldn’t?” He asked Mark, turning the faucet off by hitting the handle with his elbow, wincing slightly as a pain raced up his arm. 

“You don’t understand, Nico. You worked in a hospital before coming here, I’m talking about missing the worst of the worst. Old ladies making me treat their bunions, hysterical mothers bringing in their toddlers over one little cough.” Mark sighed, almost longingly. 

“Still sounds better than the ER to me.” Nico replied, putting on his face mask. It was Mark’s turn to snort. 

“How bad can the ER at Monaco be? What are your main cases, first degree paper cuts from dealing cards?” Mark asked sarcastically. 

“Don’t get me started, it’s as bad as any ER anywhere,” Nico replied, tying his mask behind his head, “except for here.” 

“Amen.” Fernando sighed, putting his scrubs on. Nico opened the door to the ER for the two of them, and dashed back into the sterilization room to wash his hands again. Michael was already standing over a patient, but he wasn’t making any movements, his nurse looking at him somewhat worriedly. Mark went to his table, surveying his patient.  
“Mark.” Michael said quietly. 

“Yeah?” Mark answered, looking over his shoulder at Michael. 

“You’re familiar with arterial transplants, _ja?_ Used more recent techniques? _”_ Michael asked. Mark wasn’t sure, but Michael’s voice sounded shaky. 

“You could say that, I suppose. Why?” Mark answered. 

“I’m… not sure I can save this leg, I’d feel more confident if you did it.” Michael said. Mark’s eyes widened, everyone in the OR pausing momentarily out of disbelief. Michael never switched patients, he was the savior of surgeries gone wrong, he never deferred them to anyone else. 

“I… sure. I’ll take it.” Mark said, going to Michael’s table as they switched. Mark glanced at Jenson out of the corner of his eye, half-tempted to ask him if Hell had frozen over. Mark looked at the leg, surveying the damage. The artery was definitely torn up, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen Michael deal with before. Mark glanced up at Michael, who was already opening Mark’s former patient. Mark sighed and looked back at the artery. 

“I need antiseptic here.” Mark said to his nurse, gesturing to the entirety of the artery.

“Yes doctor.” She said, picking up the dull brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide, brow furrowing. She put down the bottle quickly, rushing to the OR’s supply closet. Mark looked at the bottle. _Must be empty._ He thought, looking up at Fernando and Michael, already working as Mark waited. 

“My kingdom for a nurse.” Mark muttered under his breath, glancing over his shoulder at the nurse. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Mark heard Nico ask as he finally entered the OR. 

“We… er… we have no peroxide left.” The nurse said quietly. Everyone stopped at that. 

“What? That can’t be possible. I put in an order for three crates of hydrogen peroxide a week ago!” Mark exclaimed. Nico rushed to the back of the room, rooting through the closet furiously, muttering in German. 

“I need something over here!” Mark yelled. “Iodine, bleach, I’ll cauterize the damn thing if I have to!”

“Calm down!” Nico snapped at him, turning away from the closet with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his hands. 

“I found two bottles. Granted they’re a week away from going bad, but it’s the best we have.” Nico said, replacing Mark’s bottle. Michael looked at the supply closet and shook his head.

“Alright everyone, you heard Nurse Rosberg, let’s try to conserve as much as we can.” Michael sighed. “Someone get Dany to call Regimental Headquarters and get a shipment down here ASAP.” 

“I’ll go tell him.” Jenson said quickly, thankful for something to do. Mark shook his head as his nurse carefully dabbed the peroxide onto a cotton ball. This was going to be a long session.

* * *

"Ah, excuse me, Doctor Webber?" Mark turned around, spotting a young man with his hand raised slightly. Mark walked over to him quickly. He was always anxious in post-op, always watching everyone like a hawk, making sure he hadn't missed anything in surgery. The fiasco with the peroxide hadn’t helped with that anxiety in the slightest. 

"Everything alright?" Mark asked, picking up the chart hanging at the end of the bed. Corporal Bruno Senna de Lalli. Medic for the 6027th battalion. Mark vaguely recognized him as the patient he had switched with Michael for during the last session. _Severed leg artery, fracture on the left fibula, superficial chest wounds_. Mark rattled off in his mind, racing over any potential issues or complications he might have. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine!" Bruno reassured him, sitting up more. Mark was surprised by how deep his voice was, it didn't seem to match the rest of him, friendly brown eyes, skinny, and a tangle of brown curls. "I have a question, though." 

"Shoot, although we don't do much of that around here." Mark grinned, earning a small chuckle from Bruno.

"I try not to do too much of it either." Bruno admitted.  

"So, what's your question?" Mark asked, hanging Bruno's chart back up. 

"What MASH unit is this? The eight-oh-sixty third? The four-oh-seven-seven?” Bruno asked, looking up at Mark. 

"This is the one-oh-forty six MASH." Mark answered, taking a seat on the edge of empty bed beside Bruno's. His eyes widened. 

”It is!?" Bruno exclaimed, pushing himself up out of bed even further, but stopped as a sharp pain ran up his left leg. "Argh!" He grunted as Mark put his hands on his shoulders firmly, easing Bruno back down in bed. 

"Hey, easy now, we don't want you getting worse than when you came in." Mark warned him, taking his hands off of Bruno's shoulders. Bruno nodded. 

"Right, sorry, I didn't think I was going to be lucky enough to end up here." Bruno explained. Mark couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. 

"Well you were lucky enough to not get sent to the four-oh-seven-seven, we had to send our worst cases to them." Mark replied. 

"No, I mean I know someone who was stationed here, I was hoping I could ask some questions about him." Bruno explained. 

"Who is it? Friend? Family member?” Mark asked.  

"My uncle, Ayrton." Bruno answered, looking away from Mark, eyes downcast. "He was supposed to come home a few months ago but…" Bruno trailed off, shaking his head. "We don't know what happened to him, maybe his orders got cancelled and they didn't tell us, or…" Mark put a hand on Bruno's shoulder, stopping him. 

"Hey, I'm sure we can find out something. When was your uncle stationed here?" Mark asked, trying to give Bruno a reassuring smile. 

"A year ago, I think, he was apparently one of the first surgeons here." 

"Ah, you're going to want to talk to Michael then." Mark said, leaning back, "He's the only one who's been here that long." 

"Michael Schumacher?" Bruno asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, how'd you know his name?" 

“My uncle talked about him a few times in his letters, I think they lived in the same tent." Bruno replied, scratching at his collarbone, near where his chest sutures were. 

"C'mon kid, we just finished putting you back together." Mark joked as he stood up. "Try leaving the stitches alone, eh? I'll go track down the old man, try not to break anything while I'm gone."

"I'll try." Bruno said with a smile. "Thanks again, Doctor." 

"No problem, corporal." Mark gave him a short half-smile before walking out the door, spotting Nico heading towards the mess tent. 

"Hey, Hot Lips!" Mark called, jogging up to the head nurse. Nico paused and sighed. 

"Are you ever going to let that name go?" He asked, crossing his arms. 

"Nope, not anytime soon." Mark grinned. 

"Well, what do you need? I have a lunch to choke down." Nico asked, glancing at the mess tent with dread.

"Do you know where Michael is? I need to ask him about something." 

"He told me he was going to do medical inventory, after the little fiasco we had with the peroxide yesterday." Nico said pointedly, glaring slightly at Mark. 

"I told you I put in the order, I saw Dany put the paperwork through!" Mark exclaimed. "Considering this is the army, they probably lost the damn thing!" 

"I don't want excuses Mark, now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go get something to eat before it crawls away on its own." Nico said, marching away towards the mess tent. Mark glared after him but shook his head and headed to the storeroom. 

* * *

 "Hey, old man, you in here?" Mark called into the storeroom, trying not to cough as a ever-familiar cloud of dust swirled around him. 

"I still think that you should call Maurizio that. He's the one with grey hair." Michael's voice called back. 

"You're used to it by now. Where are you?" 

"By the anesthetics, we're running low." 

"When aren't we?" Mark asked, making his way towards the back of the room. 

"Good point." Michael sighed, looking at the empty shelves. "Plenty of ammunition though." 

"Unfortunately." Mark added, leaning against the wall and taking a bottle from one of the shelves, picking at a label absent-mindedly. 

"So, is everything alright in post-op?" Michael asked, glancing between the supplies and the clipboard he was carrying.  

"Yeah, one of the kids has a question though, about a doctor who was here. Said the name was Ayrton." Mark said, looking up from the bottle. Michael paused, the color draining from his face, making Mark stand up straight. 

"Michael? You alright?" Mark asked, worried. 

"Ayrton?" Michael repeated, looking at Mark. "Ayrton Senna?" 

"Yeah, his nephew is in post-op. Said his uncle didn't come home, he's trying to find out if he got reassigned and his family was left out of the loop." Mark explained. The clipboard fell to Michael's side as he covered his mouth with his hand. 

" _Gott_ , they didn't tell them?" Michael said, so quiet it was almost to himself. 

"What do you mean?" Mark asked, putting the bottle down and going over to Michael. Michael looked at Mark, removing his hand from his mouth. 

"Do you know how you got here a month after Fernando?" Michael asked him. Mark's brow furrowed. 

"Yeah, but what has that got to do with this Ayrton?" 

"Fernando was Ayrton's replacement, because…" Michael swallowed, eyes squeezing shut tightly, "…because Ayrton was killed in an ambush, just outside Uijeongbu. He was going to the air base, to get on his flight home." Michael's voice broke as he said "home", choking back a sob as he said it. Mark felt his heart drop and his blood run cold.  

"I can't believe it." Michael whispered. "The army never told them." Mark shook his head, dumbstruck, sliding down to the floor, banging the back of his head against the wall. 

" _Schiesse_." Mark heard Michael hiss under his breath. 

" _Schiesse_!" Michael yelled, fist slamming against the metal frame of the shelves, making Mark jump and the glass bottles rattle together. They were both quiet for a minute, Mark shocked into silence by Michael's uncharacteristic outburst. 

"Damn this war." Michael muttered, fist clenched so tightly that Mark could see the tendons standing out on his arm.

"I couldn't have said it better." Mark replied, looking up at the older doctor. Michael let out a long sigh, unclenching his fist slowly. 

"You said Bruno was in post-op?" Michael asked dully. 

"Yeah." 

"I'll go talk to him." Michael said, starting to walk out of the storeroom, right as Mark realized something.

"Wait!" Mark yelped, scrambling to his feet. Michael turned around. 

"I didn't tell you Bruno's name. How did you know?" Mark asked. Michael smiled, but it was a sad, tired smile. 

"I can't recall a day Ayrton didn't talk about him or someone else in his family." Michael answered, walking out of the storeroom, and leaving Mark alone. 

* * *

 "Bruno?" 

Bruno looked up from the book that one of the nurses had been able to find, it honestly wasn't that great, but any reading material was practically a god-send. One of the doctors he hadn't seen before stood at the end of his bed. 

“Yes, sir." Bruno responded, hurriedly adding the “sir” as he saw the oak leaves on the man’s lapel, dog-earing the page and closing the book. "Are you doctor… er, Major,Schumacher?" 

"I am," Michael said, managing a smile, "please, call me Michael. We’re not very fond of rank around here.” He said as he sat down where Mark had earlier. Bruno nodded. 

"It's nice to meet you, Uncle Ayrton wrote about you a few times." Bruno said with a grin. Michael laughed at that. 

"I can't imagine what he must have said. "Nephew, this German is driving me insane, I'll have a Section Eight in no time!"" Michael said, a smile crossing his face as he remembered Ayrton sitting on his cot, crouched over his paper as he wrote back to his family. 

"Oh no, nothing like that!" Bruno exclaimed. "He said you were a fantastic surgeon, that the outfit was lucky to have you." 

"Really now?" Michael asked, somewhat surprised.  

"Yeah! He said you made the place much more bearable." 

Michael pressed his lips together. Typical Ayrton. 

"I'd have to say the same of your uncle, he made this place something else, he was a surgeon unlike any other.” Michael said, a smile crossing his face. 

"I remember the day he got his orders to go home." Michael couldn't help but laugh at the memory. He could see it like it happened yesterday, Ayrton tearing the yellow envelope open, letting it fall haphazardly to the floor as he clutched the letter, eyes racing over the message. 

"He scared me half to death, he just started whooping and yelling," Michael could remember nearly getting the life squeezed out of him as Ayrton gave him a hug before running out of the tent, 

"I wish we had someone who spoke Portuguese, Ayrton wouldn't speak in anything else for the rest of the day, until we got him drunk that is." Michael said as Bruno chuckled. Michael could almost hear Ayrton now, yelling across the camp at the top of his lungs: 

" _Vou para casa! Eu não posso acreditar, eu finalmente estou indo para casa! VOU PARA CASA!"_  Jubilant, as happy as anyone could be. 

"I think he was afraid that he'd forgotten how to speak it." Michael laughed. Bruno smiled, but Michael could see the question in his eyes, the worry. Michael took a deep breath and gave Bruno a solemn look. 

"Ayrton was the best of us. He was truly one of the greatest men I had the pleasure to know." Michael said, sitting up straighter. He'd had this talk before, all the doctors did.  "Your little brother was a brave man." "She didn't suffer, I promise." "He's in a better place now", and yet he knew it was different, because he hadn't known any of the ones who died, until now. Hadn't lived with them, hadn't worked with them, hadn't been under fire with them. Michael felt his throat tighten as Bruno's face fell. 

"…Was?" Bruno asked, voice barely above a whisper. Michael pressed his lips together, glancing away from Bruno, and then back to him. 

"Ayrton and the MP he was traveling with were ambushed outside Uijeongbu on May 1st, 1951. The bodies weren’t…” Michael couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, feeling his heart clutch as Bruno's face fell into his hands. Mark entered post-op quietly, spotting Michael and Bruno right away. 

"Hey." Fernando said, standing up from the desk as Mark closed the door softly, trying to keep it from squeaking on its hinges.  

"How long has Michael been there?" Mark whispered into Fernando's ear. Bruno's shoulders were shaking. Fernando shrugged, unsure. 

"Ten, fifteen minutes?" He whispered back. Mark sighed, staring at the pair of them. 

"I hate this place." Mark said, looking away as he heard a sob.

"Who doesn't?" Fernando added gravely, turning his head away. “Let us get out." He mumbled, grabbing Mark by the elbow and leading them both out of post-op. 


	8. ...Watch it Grin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark goes looking for a distraught Michael after meeting with Bruno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gracious this took so much longer to finish than I expected, I'm so sorry. School and life kinda happened and... yeah. Well, in any case, I hope you guys enjoyed this arc! The next chapter is happier, I swear. Chapter title from "Suicide Is Painless" by Johnny Mandel.

Michael didn’t come back to the tent that night. Mark sat on the edge of his own cot, staring at Michael’s empty bed as Fernando washed his face. The corners of the sheets were still tucked neatly, a little red blanket sitting folded at the end of it. 

“I’m worried about him.” Mark said, looking at Fernando, who was inspecting his beard in the tent’s small mirror. 

“Hm?” Fernando hummed, glancing at Mark. 

“Since when does Michael not come back here?” Mark demanded, motioning to Michael’s cot. Fernando looked at Mark, confused, before his eyes widened. 

“Oh, forgot you weren’t here for that. Seems like you have always been here.” Fernando muttered the second part under his breath as he sat next to Mark on his cot, the already stressed frame squeaking in protest. 

“Have seen this happen once before.” Fernando said, nodding to the empty cot. “Michael lost a patient in surgery. Child from the village.” Fernando said quietly, his hands folding together. Mark’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He’d never seen Michael lose a patient, it didn’t seem possible. Michael being unable to save a child was even more inconceivable. 

“Also didn’t come back that night.” Fernando said somberly. Mark looked away from Fernando and back at the cot, noticing something he hadn’t seen before. He could see a small, dark green cooler hastily stowed under the bed, but it stuck out obviously. 

“Was that there before?” Mark asked Fernando, nodding to the cooler. Fernando’s brow furrowed. 

“Am not sure. I don’t think so.” Fernando replied, staring at the cooler. Mark got up and walked towards the cooler. He didn’t snoop around, but he was worried enough about Michael to do it in this case. Mark knelt down next to the cooler, pulling it all the way out from under the bed and opening it. A chill came up from the small box, a huge chunk of uncrushed ice shoved into one half of the cooler, the other occupied by an untouched bottle of Jaegermeister. Mark raised his eyebrows, picking up the hefty green bottle, and showing it to Fernando. 

“Looks like there is room for two.” Fernando observed, looking into the cooler. Mark nodded, putting the bottle back and sliding the lid back on. As Mark started to stand up, he noticed something on Michael’s nightstand: a polaroid. Mark blinked at it. Michael had shown him and Fernando, somewhat against their will, all the pictures he had of his family, from Corinna, to Gina-Marie, and baby Mick. Especially Mick. Mark could probably draw the one picture Michael had of his baby son from memory by now, Michael had shown it to him so many times. But this wasn’t any of those pictures. Mark picked it up hesitantly, spotting another polaroid underneath it. Mark looked at the picture in his hand. He barely recognized Michael, he looked so young, his hair cut shorter than ever, the wrinkles that Mark knew so well now were completely absent from his face. He looked like he was listening intently to the other man in the picture, who Mark didn’t recognize. The other man looked more like Michael did now, with dark circles under his eyes, yet he had an air of energy about him, his hands almost a blur in the photo, mouth open in explanation. Fernando picked up the other photo. It was still Michael and the stranger, but maybe only a moment after the first photo. They were both turned towards the camera, the unfamiliar man giving the camera a wide smile, eyes crinkling, whereas Michael looked caught off-guard, eyes wide. Fernando leaned down, putting his hand on Mark’s shoulder and showing him the other picture. Mark held the first picture up to the second one. 

“Do you think that’s Ayrton?” Mark asked, looking up at Fernando. 

“ _Sí._ ” Fernando said gravely. Mark pursed his lips and put the polaroid back on the nightstand, standing up, setting his jaw. 

“I’m gonna go look for him.” Mark said resolutely, standing up.

“Maybe he wants to be alone?” Fernando suggested. 

“Or maybe he walked into a chopper blade.” Mark countered. 

“Mark! Don’t joke about that!” Fernando snapped, face suddenly fierce. 

“Come on Nano, you know how bad this place can get, and Michael isn’t made of steel!” Mark said angrily. They glared at each other for a hard minute before Mark turned away, snatching his coat off the coat rack, the pole wobbling, threatening to fall before it righted itself. Fernando sighed in frustration as Mark stormed out to the tent, slamming the door.

* * *

If Mark ever found Michael he was going to throttle him. He was worse than Dany, Mark had checked everywhere for the senior surgeon, tearing the camp inside and out, and Michael was nowhere to be found. Mark let out a frustrated sigh, running his hands through his hair, looking around the camp hopelessly. 

“Mark?” He heard someone ask. Mark turned his head, surprised to find Sergio walking out of the PA office. _Good Lord, how late is it?_ Mark thought to himself. If he caught Sergio walking back to his tent, he was out late. 

“Hey, Checo.” Mark said tiredly. He didn’t see the PA man often, Sergio was one of the more diligent enlisted men. 

“You alright?” Sergio asked, stepping towards Mark. Mark shook his head.  
“I’m looking for Michael, I’m a bit worried about him.” Mark explained.

“I think I saw him heading up a path a bit ago, by the crossroads.” Sergio said, glancing behind Mark, up the road. Mark followed his gaze. 

“A path, eh?” Mark asked, turning his body. Sergio nodded. 

“It’s overgrown, but it’s there.” Sergio assured him. Mark looked back a Sergio, nodding. 

“Thanks Checo, I’ll see you around.” Mark said, walking towards the crossroads. 

“See you!” Sergio called, walking off into the night. When he got to the crossroads, Mark couldn’t find a path, until he saw a small stretch of dirt leading up the hill by the crossroads. 

“ _This must be it._ ” Mark thought to himself, starting the steep climb up the hill. When he got to the top, he was greeted by a huge bramble bush, and Michael’s back. Mark took a deep breath. He stepped over the bush, but then felt his other foot catch on the sharp brambles.

Mark pulled his foot free of the brambles with a grunt, falling forward, putting out his hands to catch himself, letting out a hiss of pain as his palms scraped against the dirt. Mark stood up as Michael twisted around to look at him, the younger surgeon grimacing at his palms, scraped raw and covered in dirt. Mark wiped his hands on his pants, trying not to wince as he walked up to Michael. 

“Are you alright?” Michael asked as Mark sat down beside him. 

“Yeah, just scrapes.” Mark replied, looking at him. Michael nodded, looking back at the camp. Mark followed his gaze, looking out at the horizon. The compound looked almost ghostly from the hill, devoid of movement and light, and fog from the mountains creeping through the roads. 

“I’m surprised you found this place.” Michael said. Mark looked at him again, glancing at Michael’s hand. Fernando was right, there were two bottles of Jaegermeister. 

“Well, it wasn’t easy to find, mate, let me tell you.” Mark huffed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the fog slowly settle around the camp. 

“We used to come here.” Michael murmured. Mark could see his eyes were red and bloodshot, still wet with tears. “Me, Alain, and Ayrton. We came up here the day we finished setting up the camp.” Michael took a swig from the bottle. He held it out to Mark, who took it carefully. Mark threw his head back with the bottle, the liquor burning his throat as he swallowed. 

“It tastes too good.” Mark said with a pained grin, handing the bottle back to Michael. Michael managed a half-hearted laugh. 

“Too used to that lighter fluid you call a gin?” Michael asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mark said, wiping the side of his mouth, swatting at a mosquito on his neck. 

“How come you never showed Nano and I this place? It’s a hell of a view.” Mark said, gesturing to the compound below them. Michael blinked, turning his head to look down at the camp again. 

“This isn’t a happy place.” Michael mumbled, considering the bottle in his hand for a moment, before putting it down in the dirt beside him.

“Of course it isn’t. Show me a square foot of Korea that’s happy, you’ll get a medal for it.” Mark snorted. Michael sighed in response. 

“You don’t understand. Our commander, Dennis, told us to come up here and check to see if the rest of the camp was set up.” Michael explained, now looking towards the mountains. “When we came up here, we could see red on the horizon,” Michael wiped at his eyes, “it looked like the sun setting, in the middle of the night.” 

“A fire.” Mark said. He’d heard stories of the fires that the army would set just to flush out a few enemies, biblical stuff that’d force any unit with some sense to bug-out, retreat. Michael nodded. 

“I’ll never forget what Ayrton said then,” Michael said, shaking his head, “‘ _Meu Deus,_ we’re in it. We’re in Hell.’” 

“He certainly wasn’t wrong.” Mark sighed.

“Do you remember when I switched with you in surgery?” Michael asked suddenly, looking at Mark. Mark searched his memory. 

“You mean with Bruno?” Mark asked, brow furrowing. Michael nodded. 

“Yes. I could have done that transplant.” Michael said. 

“I know, you’ve taken care of worse. Why didn’t you?” Mark asked. 

“Because I didn’t see Bruno on the table.” Michael explained, unable to resist the bottle again, taking a long drink. “I saw Ayrton.” Michael finally said. “No matter how many times I reminded myself he was dead, that I’d seen plenty of pictures of Bruno, all I could see was Ayrton on that table.” Michael wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“God help me, I couldn’t open him up. I couldn’t help him then, and I couldn’t help him now.” Michael covered his eyes with his hand. Mark saw a tear race down Michael’s cheek. 

“You couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t your fault.” Mark said quietly, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder, feeling how Michael trembled. The words felt hollow as they left his mouth. It scared Mark like nothing else. _If this place could break someone like Michael, what’s it going to do to me?_ Mark thought to himself, staring into the distance as he squeezed Michael’s shoulder. Morning seemed as if it would never come.

* * *

 

Fernando blinked as he heard the door hinges squeak, propping himself up on his elbows, turning to look at the door. Mark and Michael trudged in, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, Mark holding the now-empty bottle of Jaegermeister loosely. 

“You two look like hell.” Fernando commented, looking at the almost black circles under their eyes, as he sat up more fully. Michael didn’t respond, opting instead to fall into his cot with a moan. 

“Feel like hell.” Mark mumbled, the bottle dropping to the floor with a dull thud as Mark rubbed at his eyes. Fernando sighed and glanced between the two of them. 

“Lucky for you two, there is no wounded coming in.” Fernando mumbled, lying back down, closing his eyes. Mark sat down on the edge of his cot, staring at the floor. Fernando sat up when he didn’t hear Mark fall into his cot. 

“Mark?” Fernando asked quietly. “Are you okay?” Fernando felt a pang in his chest as Mark looked at him, eyes glassy with tears, biting on his lip, shoulders shaking.  
“No, I’m not, Nano.” Mark said hoarsely, his head falling into his hands. 

“I’m _not_.” 

* * *

 “Watch your step.” 

Mark helped a soldier into the awaiting ambulance, watching as the man took a seat on one of the canvas seats suspended from the frame the ambulance. Mark turned to load the next soldier, and his breath caught in his throat. 

“Hi doc.” Bruno said, leaning on a crutch, somehow managing a smile. Mark cleared his throat, trying to swallow his surprise. Now that he’d seen pictures of Ayrton, he understood why Michael had seen him on that table, and not his nephew. 

“Leaving so soon?” Mark managed to joke. Bruno chuckled. 

“I’m afraid to say I’m happy to leave.” Bruno replied. The smile was still on his face, but Mark could see the pain and hurt in his eyes. 

“Well, we don’t want you back here.” Mark grinned, taking Bruno by the elbow and helping him up into the ambulance. “No offense.” Mark added as Bruno leaned against the frame.  
“None taken.” Bruno replied, giving Mark a smile as he walked to the next available seat. 

“Get better, you hear? Doctor’s orders.” Mark said in a mock-stern tone, making most of the ambulance’s occupants laugh. Mark turned to help the next man in. 

“Bruno!” Someone yelled. Bruno blinked, twisting to look out the window. He could see Michael jogging towards the window next to where Bruno was sitting. He could see something in Michael’s hand. Bruno unlatched the window, banging on the frame as it got stuck, and pushing it upwards, sticking his head out as Michael came up to the window.  
“Doctor Schumacher, is everything okay?” Bruno asked, brow knitting with worry. Michael nodded, trying to catch his breath. 

“Yes, don’t worry. I just wanted to give you something.” Michael explained, straining to reach the window, a polaroid in his hand. Bruno took it gingerly, looking at it, letting out a small gasp. It’d been months since he’d seen his uncle, but regardless of the circles under his eyes, regardless of what this place had done to him, Bruno would know that smile anywhere, he could spot those kind eyes from a mile away. He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he heard the ambulance engine sputter to life. Michael glanced at the front of the ambulance and then back to Bruno.  
“Thank you, so much.” Bruno sniffed, managing to get his arm through the window. Michael took his hand, giving him a firm handshake. 

“Take care of yourself, please, Bruno.” Michael said solemnly. Bruno nodded, biting his lip. 

“I will.” Bruno said, Michael letting go of his hand as he felt the ambulance start to move. Bruno looked back as the surgeons gathered around Michael, raising their hands in a solemn goodbye. Bruno watched until the ambulance took a turn, and the 1046 disappeared from sight. 

They all stood in silence as the ambulance rolled away, leaving a red dust cloud in its wake. No one spoke until the cloud dissipated. 

“Back to work?” Mark asked tiredly, feeling a kind of weight in his chest. Michael didn’t look at Mark. 

“Back to work.” 


	9. Silver Screen Shuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morale is low, and the lack of any decent movies isn't helping. Father Button enlists Mark's help to get some new flicks for the 1046.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE! Oh my god it's done, I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. The material was not working with me this time around, I should have planned it out more. Next chapter will pick up slightly, and hopefully it'll be posted sooner. Oh, before I forget, MPC stands for "military payment certificate".

"Testing, testing..."

Michael, Mark, and Fernando paused what they were doing as Dany's voice fought through the static of the PA system. Michael had his straight razor pressed lightly against his cheek, one half of his jaw covered in thick shaving cream, looking up expectantly. A three-month old edition of _The Medical Examiner's Guide_ sat open on Mark's lap, as Fernando folded his cot blanket over his arm as he looked at the PA.

"Testing, one, two, three, four, five..." Dany continued, half the camp pausing, confused by Sergio's absence.

" _I've got a gal in Kalamazoo_ -Sergio!” Dany's less-than lovely singing voice was cut out with a scuffle and a sharp whine as the PA shut off abruptly.

"I didn't know they were holding USO auditions today." Mark said, looking back at the guide again.

"You don't have the legs for it." Michael replied, scraping the razor against his cheek gently, minding a spot where he’d nicked himself the day prior. Mark grinned to himself as the PA came back on. Sergio cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Sorry about that everyone, back to your regular programming. The glee club meets at oh-three-hundred hours, and tonight's film is..." Sergio paused, sighing tiredly.

"I swear if he says "Keep It Clean"..." Mark muttered darkly, glaring at the PA speakers.

"...Keep It Clean: A VD Information Film from the US Army." Sergio finished.

"OH COME ON!" Someone yelled from across the compound, another person chucking an apple core at the PA system, getting it lodged on the inside of the speakers.

"Hey! This is government property!" Sergio said suddenly, voice warped as the PA came to life quickly.

"Aren't we all?" Fernando asked, rolling his eyes as he set the blanket on his cot.

“Don’t we have any other movies besides that?” Mark asked desperately, looking around at his tent-mates. “I’ve seen that film so many times, when I go home and they say “V-Day” I’m gonna ask why there’s a day dedicated to venereal diseases!” He exclaimed.

“We burned our old movies, remember?” Michael said, turning to look over his shoulder at Mark, razor still in hand. “The heater in post-op kept going out, we ran out of firewood, magazines, and the film was the next-best thing.” Michael reminded him, scraping at his chin, cleaning the razor blade with a ratty towel. Mark arched an eyebrow at Michael.

“Is that what happened to all my issues of Volleyball Monthly?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips. Michael paused, glancing at Mark in the mirror.

“…Maybe.” Michael answered, making Mark roll his eyes.  “Fantastic, now I have nothing lewd to entertain myself with either.” Mark said, walking out of the tent.

“Where are you going?” Fernando asked Mark through one of the tent’s screen walls as Mark walked around the side of the tent.

“Confession.” Mark answered shortly, making Fernando and Michael stare after him as he walked away.

“Is Mark even Catholic?” Michael finally asked, looking at Fernando over his shoulder. Fernando shrugged. Michael turned around again, watching Mark disappear from view. 

“Guess he is that bored.”

* * *

 Jenson jumped as he heard the chair in the confessional squeak, followed by a heavy sigh. “Confessional” was a loose term, more than one visitor had mistaken the small add-on to the recreation tent as an unfinished latrine. The confessional itself was comprised of a few loose boards and extra camouflage netting, strung between Jenson and the confessor. The confessional’s seat was hijacked from a broken-down Jeep. Or at least Jenson hoped it was from a broken-down Jeep. The seat itself was suspiciously pristine.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.” The voice said from the other side of the camouflage.

“What sins have you committed, Ma-Er…my child.” Jenson said, catching himself. He knew better than to call everyone by their first names, but it was hard to remember when he saw them all so often, especially with the younger members of the 1046 like Max.

“What would gambling fall under?” Max asked, peering through the camouflage.

“Ah… sloth, I suppose.” Jenson answered.

“That, then.” Max replied, head thudding against the back of the seat.

“Why have you done this?” Jenson asked, although he could figure out the answer.

“Well, there’s nothing else to do around here!” Max exclaimed. Jenson sighed, nodding slightly in agreement.

 “I know, I know.” Jenson said. “Well… to make up for it, donate some of your winnings-“  
Max laughed nervously at that, making Jenson sigh.  

“Donate what you didn’t lose to the orphanage, son.” Jenson amended. He could vaguely see Max nod.

“I will. Thank you, Father.” Max said as he got up, quietly exiting the confessional.

“Any time, my child.” Jenson replied, smiling for a moment. He sat back in his chair, brow furrowing in thought. Morale was at an all-time low, tempers flared more easily, depression was settling like a wet blanket across the camp. If only they had a-  
Jenson started again as the chair in the confessional squeaked again.

“Forgive me, Father, for I am bored out of my mind.” Mark moaned from the other side of the confessional, head thudding against the back of the wall. Jenson laughed.

“I can’t help you with that.” Jenson said apologetically. Mark pulled the camouflage aside, looking at Jenson expectantly.

“Sure you can. How does the saying go? Idle hands are the devil’s playthings?” Mark asked. Jenson nodded.

“Well, my hands are idle, and ripe to be played with.” Mark said. Jenson sat back for a moment, considering Mark’s statement.

“Now that you mention it…” Jenson said, instantly making Mark perk up.

“I’ve been thinking we need new movies, given all we have is-“

“Don’t you dare say it.” Mark interjected, cutting Jenson off. “If I ever heard the name of that film one more time I’ll go mad.”

“Duly noted.” Jenson said, clearing his throat.  
“Anyways, I've thought about driving down to Regimental Headquarters and requesting some new films, but I don't have much clout as a second lieutenant..." Jenson explained as he saw Mark shrug, giving Jenson a smile.

"Well, I'll see if I can put my captain's bars to use for once." Mark chuckled.

"I'll see what I can do to help, Father."

* * *

 “Damn… tie…” Mark growled at the dark green tie as he undid the knot for the umpteenth time. A visit to Regimental Headquarters meant getting into proper uniform, and all the pains that came with the proper uniform. His collar was too tight, his wool formal jacket entirely too warm for the heat outside, he already hated this trip and he and Jenson hadn’t even left yet. Mark frowned at himself in the mirror as he tried to knot his tie again as Michael looked up at Mark from his small desk.

“Do you need help?” Michael asked, lifting his pen from the paper he was writing on.

“No.” Mark said firmly, not looking at Michael. Michael twisted in his chair to look at Fernando, catching the Spaniard’s eye, and nodding towards Mark. Fernando pursed his lips and got up, stepping in front of Mark, grabbing the two ends of the tie from him, Mark’s hands dropping to his sides.

 “I will tie it.” Fernando murmured, twisting and folding the tie until it was in a neat Windsor knot. Fernando gave it one more pull to tighten it slightly, fixing Mark’s collar while he was at it, glancing up at Mark’s smiling face. Fernando had forgotten how good Mark looked in uniform.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nano,” Mark said, squeezing Fernando’s shoulder, “are you sure you can’t come with us?” Mark continued, eyes and voice pleading. Fernando shook his head.

“Am on night-shift at the hospital tonight, is too late to switch the roster.” Fernando said apologetically, making Mark pout. "And am not planning on going AWOL." Fernando added firmly, trying not to break into a smile at Mark's comic pout. All three turned their heads they heard a honk outside the tent, finding Jenson sitting in the driver's seat of one of the motor pool's Jeeps.

"Off we go!" Jenson grinned, making Mark shake his head, managing a smile.

"If you say so, Lieutenant." Mark chuckled, opening the door and walking to the passenger side of the Jeep. Michael had turned back to his letter, but raised his hand, waving it slightly.

"Have fun, be safe." He called.

"Look out for land mines!" Fernando yelled as the engine roared to life. Mark turned and waved as Jenson sped away.

* * *

 "I'm sorry, but we just can't help you." Mark forced himself to glare at the picture behind the lieutenant's desk, a huge reproduction of _Gone With The Wind_ 's movie poster, fixing his glare on Clark Gable's face as opposed to the lieutenant's. He and Jenson had been stuck arguing with the lieutenant for the past hour, not counting the thirty minutes the lieutenant had spent trying to avoid them.

"But why not?" Jenson asked, brow furrowed, frowning slightly. "Surely you must have something."

"Oh, we do have something, the one thing the forward camps didn't want." The lieutenant said with a derisive snort. "But it's less MGM Studios and more... educational." Mark couldn't help but groan at that, Jenson shooting him a warning look, which Mark ignored.

"The last thing we need is more educational films, I went to medical school for eight years precisely so I wouldn't have to watch another educational film!" Mark snapped, his patience thinning. Jenson put a hand on his shoulder. The lieutenant looked less than amused. He brushed away nonexistent dust from his desk before folding his hands together, and looking at Jenson and Mark again.

"I'm sorry Captain Webber, Father Button, but we can't give you any films, then." Mark pressed his lips into a line as Jenson nodded with resignation.

"Thank you for your time." Jenson managed to say, standing up and walking out, with Jenson on his heels, the lieutenant's office door swinging shut behind them.

"Well, so much for official channels." Jenson sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yep." Mark said, mouth twitching to the side before he looked at Jenson, giving him a confused look.

"Wait, "official channels"?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow. Jenson gave him a knowing smile, pressing a finger to his lips for a moment before walking down the hall, motioning for Mark to follow. Mark stood in front of the lieutenant's office, stunned, before hurrying after Jenson.

"Jenson, you're not saying what I think you're saying. Do you really-"

"Not here, I'll tell you once we're on the road." Jenson said quietly, glancing around the officers who were all over the hall. Once outside, Jenson slid over the Jeep's seat, into the driver's seat as Mark slid in next to him.

"You have black market connections?" Mark asked as Jenson fired up the engine, his voice drowned out for a moment as the engine made a sputtering noise as it roared to life.

"A few." Jenson answered as he pulled away from Headquarters.

"How does a priest have black market connections?" Mark continued, dumbfounded. Jenson smiled.

"Ask not what's better left unknown, Mark." Jenson grinned, winking at him.

"What proverb is that?"

 "Oh, it's not. Just friendly advice." Jenson replied as he skidded through a turn, kicking up dirt in the Jeep's wake.  
"Now, we need to go back to the unit and get all the MPCs we have, they usually take those to regular cash. Harder to track." Jenson explained, glancing at Mark. Mark blinked.

"...They?" He asked Jenson, becoming more bewildered by the second. Just how often did Jenson go to the black market to be this flippant about it? Jenson glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Marketeers, locals." Jenson answered shortly. "We have to move fast, they won't be set up long."

* * *

 "This is it?" Mark asked as he and Jenson reached the end of the unmarked road Jenson had been driving on. Mark was half-convinced the suspension was shot, this was a road for cows and carthorses, not vehicles. They'd made a lightning-fast stop at the 1046, Mark leaving a bewildered Michael and Fernando in his wake as he snatched his roll of red MPCs from his wallet and jumped back into the Jeep with Jenson. The priest nodded, turning off the engine and hopping out of the car.

"Right this way." Jenson said, heading towards the dense brush at the end of the road, holding it aside like a curtain, revealing a clearing filled with slap-dash stalls set up, Korean locals standing behind them, all manner of items up for sale. Mark blinked and ducked his way into the clearing, Jenson following after him. The priest threaded his way through the rickety stalls with Mark in tow, waving to some of the other vendors, giving courteous nods to the scantily-clad young women who were hawking other kinds of goods, stopping in front of a stall in the back, manned by an older local man, who was puffing smoke out of a wooden pipe.

"Nam Ji-hu, it's good to see you again." Jenson smiled. The old man didn't reply, glaring at Mark instead.

"Who's this?" Ji-hu said around the pipe, crossing his arms.

"He's a colleague of mine, a surgeon at the unit." Jenson explained. Ji-hu continued to glare at Mark. Mark thought the man might have been younger than he looked, the deep lines on his face not caused by age, but by stress and fear.

"He won't squeal?" The man asked suspiciously.

"Not if he knows what's good for him." Jenson joked, but Mark wasn't laughing.

"If it helps any, I do have money." Mark said, retrieving the wad of MPCs from his chest pocket. Ji-hu blinked.

"Fine." He relented, looking at Jenson again. "What you want, Father?"

"Movies." Jenson answered a little too eagerly. Ji-hu nodded, disappearing into the darkened stall, and returning with a box full of film reels, dropping it on the counter in front of him. Mark and Jenson looked at each other, wide-eyed, before diving into the box like children in a candy store.

"Hey, hey! Careful with the merchandise! Have other costumers too!" Ji-hu snapped. They both slowed down as Mark saw a title that caught his eye, pulling the reel out.

" _Strangers On A Train._ " He read aloud as Jenson pulled out another reel.

" _The African Queen._ Ooh, I wanted to see this before I left home." Jenson mused, looking up at Ji-hu. "What's the pri-"

"Three for one hundred." Ji-hu answered shortly, the pair's eyes widening at the high price. Mark looked at Jenson.

"I only have fifty." Mark said.

"Me too." Jenson sighed, retrieving his own roll of MPCs from his pocket, putting it on top of Mark's stack. "One more. Let's make it a good one." Jenson smiled. Mark nodded, going through them until he got to the last one, a broad grin breaking across his face, showing it to Jenson, the letters bold and red on a white label: _The Thing From Another World_. Jenson chuckled.

"Perfect." He looked up at Ji-hu.  
"We'll take them."

* * *

 "Tonight's film is no longer a violation of the Geneva Convention," Sergio's voice echoed across the camp as a throng of people made their way into the recreation tent, "instead, our feature film is The Thing From Another World. Get a seat and some popcorn while you can!" The PA cut out quickly, everyone filing into the recreation tent excitedly.

"I can't believe you actually got a film, let alone three." Michael said, leaning forward to look at Mark. Mark and Jenson had been given front-row seats for their valiant efforts as Dany tried to get the film threaded into the projector.

"Oh, we just had to grease some palms is all." Mark smiled, stealing a piece of Fernando's popcorn from beside him, Fernando swatting his hand away playfully.

"It's loaded!" Dany yelled, a broad smile on his face as he opened the camera lens, light flooding the canvas screen at the front of the tent. A great cheer went up from the packed crowd, some tossing popcorn and caps into the air in celebration, drowning out the film's overture, only to be replaced by confusion a minute later, as the cast credits came onscreen.

"Wait, I didn't think Tor Johnson was in this." Someone whispered. Jenson and Mark looked at each other, panic on their faces.

"Yeah, I thought James Arness was?" Someone whispered back. The credits kept rolling over a picture of a graveyard, another chorus of murmurs going up at the "guest star" credits.

"Oh, I know Bella Lugosi isn't in _The Thing_." Someone hissed to their neighbor. Jenson tugged at his collar, getting nervous. Mark chewed on his thumbnail, grimacing at the collective groan of the tent as the title appeared: _Plan 9 From Outer Space_. A notorious bomb. Jenson sighed as a few people let out cries of "Boo!" and tossed popcorn at the screen. He looked at Mark again.

"Well, that's what I get for trusting the black market." Jenson sighed. Mark patted him on the back, managing a smile.

"Well, at least we have something to laugh at, and that's just what we needed, Father." Mark reassured him.

"A laugh is the best thing you can give someone in a place like this."


	10. Crosshairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's early morning shower is interrupted by a sniper attempting to shoot at him, and the invisible enemy is taking aim at anyone and everyone in the unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god this is so, so late, but I haven't abandoned my problem child! Life and college happened, and this chapter has been a pain. This is the first part of two.

"Mark." The voice was soft, distinctly Spanish, and presumably attached to the hand that was shaking Mark's shoulder. The Australian moaned in response, burying his face in his pillow. 

"I'm not going back in that OR for another hour." Mark replied, his voice muffled by his pillow. Fernando rolled his eyes. 

"Is not OR, there is warm water in the showers for once." Fernando explained, instantly making Mark sit up. Fernando was still dressed in his scrubs, but his hair was damp, smelling faintly sweet. 

“Don’t play with my heart like this, Nano,” Mark said, looking up at Fernando, “I can’t take another heartbreak.” Fernando chuckled in response. 

“There is, really, I promise.” Fernando reassured him. Mark grinned, snatching his bathrobe and towel off the coat pole, throwing them over his shoulder as he grabbed his shower kit, rushing out the door, Fernando looking bemused as the door slammed into the frame. Mark practically bounded up to the showers, jumping up the stairs and rushing into the first open stall, pulling the curtain behind him and shimmying out of his boxers. He let out a moan as the water hit him, head lolling back on his shoulders. The last time he’d had a warm shower was probably before he got drafted, many spoke of warm water in the 1046’s showers as if it was Shangri-La or Eldorado, a thing of wonder and myth. Mark cupped some water in his hand, throwing it on the back of his neck, starting to work his soap into a lather, when he heard a sharp sound. Mark paused, blinking, brow furrowing, the water hitting his chest, the shower head too low for someone so tall. He knew that sound, he knew he did. What was- 

Mark jumped as one of the posts beside the shower burst into splinters, shielding his face with his hands. Mark stared at the now decimated post, the wood exposed and splintered, lowering his hands slowly, eyes wide, chest heaving. A sniper rifle. The sound had been a sniper rifle. 

He was being fired on. 

Mark ducked quickly, back pressed against one of the stall walls, wincing as he heard the sharp gunshot again. No one would be awake, not at this hour, not even Fernando, he would have fallen asleep within minutes. He couldn’t call for help, it would be futile. Mark took a deep breath, checking around the corner of the stall. He could see holes in the showers’ screen door, grey spots of sky stark against the dark mesh. He had only one choice. 

Run, and pray. 

The entire, relatively short, stretch from the showers to the tent seemed to have turned into a minefield, Mark dodging this way and that, shots ringing out as bullets hit the ground around him, spitting up puffs of dirt. He didn’t even realize he’d made it into the tent until he nearly tripped over his cot, buck naked and yelling, Fernando and Michael only adding to the panicked chorus as they were rudely awakened. 

“What’s wrong!?” Fernando yelped, his mouth going dry and blood turning cold as Mark stood up with nary a thing on him, turned right towards him. Michael groaned, shielding his eyes, as opposed to Fernando who couldn’t look away. 

“ _Gott_ , Mark! Put something on!” Michael exclaimed, looking firmly away. 

“S-sniper!” Mark managed to gasp as he grabbed the blanket off his cot, wrapping it hurriedly around his waist. “A sniper was shooting at me!” 

Michael scoffed. 

“Mark, that’s not possible,” Michael said, shaking his head, “that would be a violation of the Geneva Convent-“ Michael stopped as another sharp shot rang out, his eye twitching as something flew past his ear, the pain sharp and momentary. All three surgeons stared at the new hole in the floor. 

The next thing they new, they were slumped against the door of Maurizio’s office, all panting, their commanding officer and company clerk staring at them, wide-eyed. 

“What are you…” Maurizio trailed off, unable to come up with anything to say as he looked from Michael’s bleeding ear, now almost entirely red, blood trailing down his jaw and dripping off his chin, to Mark desperately clutching at the blanket around his waist. 

“Maurizio, there’s a sniper.” Michael panted, glancing out the windows behind Maurizio. "Sniper? Why would someone send a sniper here? We're a hospital. Besides, an enemy firing on a hospital is a violation of the Geneva Convention." Maurizio replied decidedly, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. Dany nodded in silent agreement as he picked up his pencil, only to freeze as they all heard a sharp sound, foreign to the colonel and the clerk, however it was distressingly familiar to the surgeons. Their worst fears were confirmed when they heard screaming and shots, followed by yells of:   
"The hospital! Barricade the hospital!" 

"Where are the sandbags!?" 

They had never seen Maurizio run so fast. The next few minutes for all of them was a frenzy of stacking whatever they could against the hospital doors, barricading the windows by hurriedly putting up the storm frames, all surrounded by gunshots, until they finally scrambled into the building, slamming the doors behind them. They looked at the hospital before them, a scene of bedlam, a young blonde nurse crying on the floor, Nico quickly wrapping a tourniquet around her knee, scarlet blood blossoming across the white bandage. 

The air in the hospital was nothing short of tense, everyone looking around warily, from the wounded, to the enlisted men, to the surgeons.

"Now what?" Max muttered to Dan, glancing at Maurizio out of the corner of his eye. "Sit here until he picks us off?" Daniel didn't respond, opting instead to worry at his lip. 

"You are truly a bastion of optimism, Max." Mark replied, rolling his eyes, tugging on a white t-shirt one of the nurses had managed to find for him, along with a set of heavy khaki pants. 

"Do you have a better idea?" Max said snappishly, glaring at the older surgeon. Mark felt his eye twitch. 

"I don't know, do you have a better idea, Corporal Verstappen?" Nico cut in suddenly from behind them, making Max flush red as the head nurse glowered.   
"No, Major Rosberg, sir." Max mumbled, turning away. 

"Thanks, Hot-Lips." Mark murmured as Nico made his way over.

“No problem.” Nico replied quietly, glancing at Max, who had retreated to the far side of the hospital. 

“But do you have a plan?” Nico asked, looking at him. Mark pursed his lips. 

“I’m working on it.” Mark murmured, chewing on this thumbnail. “We need to call Regimental Headquarters. That much I know.” Mark said. 

“We can’t.” Dany suddenly piped up, frowning, slamming down the receiver on the portable radio he’d grabbed from Maurizio’s office.   
“The cable on this got severed, and I can’t fix it.” Dany huffed. “The other radio is in my office.”Nico and Mark stared at Dany. 

“ _Schiesse.”_ Nico breathed, covering his face with his hands, before running them through his hair. Dany pursed his lips, getting up, murmuring something into Maurizio’s ear. Maurizio’s brow furrowed, but he followed Dany into the now-empty operating room. Mark and Nico glanced at each other, Nico raising an eyebrow as Mark shrugged in response. It didn’t take long for the yelling to start. 

“Absolutely not!” Maurizio bellowed. Mark’s eyes widened, Fernando and Michael looked up from another unlucky nurse, who had a bullet graze her shoulder rather severely. 

Maurizio stormed out of the OR, the doors slamming behind him, Dany right on his heels. 

“Sir it’s the only way-“

“And it’s a great way for you and someone else to end up in a pine box!” Maurizio interrupted. 

“Hey now,” Mark said, stepping between his CO and the clerk, “what’s this you’re yelling about?” 

“I can make a run for the spare radio,” Dany said, turning to Mark, “but I need a captain or major come with me.”  
“What? Why?” Mark asked, alarmed. Dany scoffed. 

“Like Regimental would believe a clerk about a sniper.” Dany said, crossing his arms. Mark sighed, putting his hands on his hips. Maurizio fixed him with a stern look. 

“Mark, you aren’t-“ 

“I’ll do it.” Mark said confidently, setting his jaw. Maurizio covered his face with his hands, letting out an aggravated sigh.   
“Why do I bother trying to give you commands?” He muttered, throwing his hands up in defeat. Mark managed a smile. 

“I really don’t know, Maurizio.” Mark said, squeezing Maurizio’s shoulder before joining Dany in the doorway, a small shaft of light falling across the floor from the open door, as Dany peered out across the way, eyes fixed on the office. He glanced at a rock sitting out in the clearing, where a dull-colored lizard was sunning himself. Dany let himself smile for a second at the innocuous scene, but felt the blood drain from his face when he heard that sharp shot, and before he knew it, the lizard had scuttled off somewhere, its rock now overturned. If the sniper could almost hit a lizard on a rock, what chance did he and Mark have? Though the stretch from the office to the hospital was short, the sniper had a few chances to hit him and Mark. 

“Dany, you don’t have to do this.” Dan said quietly from behind him, making Dany jump a little, voice tinged with panic. 

“Yes I do, none of you know how to work the radio except for me.” He hissed back. “I’ll be fine, Dan. He hasn’t shot anyone.” 

_“Yet.”_ Daniel thought, biting down on his lip, a coppery taste filling his mouth. 

“On three.” Mark breathed from beside Dany. Dany nodded. 

“One. Two. …Three!” Mark yelled as he reached the final count, bolting from his crouched position. There had been Olympic athletes with less impressive starts as Dany followed on his heels. Mark ducked his head as he heard a shot go off, a few pieces of dull green wood splintering off the building behind them. Dany overtook Mark, panting, shoulder-checking the door to the office as they both stumbled in, nearly tripping over each other. Dany slammed the door shut, panting, trying not to slump to the floor. Mark was bent over, hands on his knees, struggling to breathe. 

“You… okay?” Mark managed to wheeze. Dany nodded, trying to swallow around the dryness in his throat. 

“Let’s call Regimental Headquarters.” Dany managed to pant, Mark nodding in agreement. 

"Yeah, let's." 


End file.
